


Us Against the World

by SinisterSound



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: A LOT of violence, Bonding over traumas, Demon Hunter!Au, Demonic!Seoho, Demons and creatures, Empath/Pyrokinetic!Geonhak, Geonhak knows a lot more than he lets on, Graphic Violence, Gruesome monsters, Guilt, Hell/dark creatures and the hunting thereof by super powered individuals, Implied character death (spoiler: they’re not), It sounds dark and sad but there is also a lot of sweet and funny moments, M/M, Nightmares, Powered!AU, Prejudices and hatred based on powers, Rating is for violence and language, Seoho acts tough but is a soft, Separation, Sort Of, Teams and found family, Youngjo has the only braincell, childhood traumas, description of torture, lots of fighting, more tags may be added, nonlinear timeline, prejudices, super powers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 109,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27549667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: Geonhak is leaving so he can keep protecting people.Seoho hates him for it. (But not really)When Geonhak shows back up (because he will show back up), Seoho is going to kill him. (He won’t really.)And if anything stops Geonhak from coming back... Seoho will tear apart the Hellscape and Earth itself to save him.(He really fucking will.)
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho
Comments: 44
Kudos: 188





	1. Changes to Lives, For Better or Worse

**Author's Note:**

> I am so terribly sorry for this one taking FOREVER to get out ㅠㅠㅠ  
> Work and life get hectic and I haven’t had any time to write, which is a shame because I am so EXCITED for this one!!! I finally figured out where I want to go with it, and I’m super excited to write it all!! 
> 
> So I hope this first chapter is worth the wait! Updates may be slow because of work, but I’ll try my best, lovelies! 
> 
> Thank you a million times to everyone who’s been showing love to my other works! And if this is your first time reading: WELCOME! I hope you enjoy it! ^u^ 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this first chapter, lovelies! I hope it’s not confusing~  
> Be safe, and thank you again!  
> -SS

Seoho slammed the door open, unapologetic even as he watched those inside jump.

He was unapologetic because the eyes of his four teammates stared at him knowingly, already soaked in pity and hesitations to keep him calm.

Seoho stood there, breathless and overheated from sprinting across the compound so fast- he’d run into three walls, feeling the bruises forming on his shoulder, hip, and elbow.

His chest heaved as he stared out at his teammates, unsure if his expression was as stormy as it felt or if there was something more vulnerable peaking out, despite his best efforts. He swallowed the dryness in his throat, heart pounding in a headache that crawled down his spine and made each of his muscles turn to stone.

Youngjo was the first to step forward a half-step, expression calm as he reached a hand out, like he could convince Seoho of something.

Seoho tore his grip from the door, slamming it shut behind himself so hard, it made the walls shiver.

“Where is he?” he demanded, voice rough and dark and harsh and biting-

He wished it was a thousand times more venomous because it didn’t hold even half of what was racing through his veins, burning him from the inside out.

“Seoho,” Keonhee tried to comfort, expression gentle-

“ _Where is he?_ ” he snapped, fingernails digging into his palms as his skin began to crawl with the familiar sensation of ice spreading over his skin as his blood burned like fire, his hair standing on end.

Hwanwoong looked like he might cry on Seoho’s behalf, lifting a hand and pointing towards their shared dorm room-

He was still here.

Seoho didn’t look at the others, racing down the short hall and slamming open the second door within their quarters, uncaring as it hit the wall, probably hard enough to break a hole in it if it wasn’t made of metal.

The resounding _clang_ of metal against metal rang in his ears louder than the static of his mind as he stood there, throat burning, and panting in equal parts from the run and the emotions slamming and clogging his chest.

Geonhak looked up as he zipped up a travel sized suitcase on his bed on the left side of the room.

Geonhak had showed up with a single, travel sized suitcase and nothing but the clothes held inside it. He’d lived his time here, never gathering any sort of junk, like the rest of them had. His parts of the room were either bare or carefully arranged, like he was some sort of minimalist piece at an art museum.

Geonhak looked up with knowledge and acceptance in his eyes, and that only made Seoho’s breathing come quicker, more shallow, beginning to skirt the line between anger and panic.

“What the hell are you doing?” he demanded, looking for fire but coming out breathless as he stared across Geonhak’s half of the room that was stripped bare of the minimal belongings.

Disbelief was too kind a word for the black ink flowing through Seoho’s veins.

Betrayal was something closer.

Geonhak merely lowered his eyes, laying his hands on the suitcase idly now that he had nothing to occupy them with.

“You’re _actually_ leaving?” Seoho snapped, stepping further into the room as fists clenched at his sides. “All for fucking _what_ -“

“I’m not sticking around, Seoho, I already told you this,” Geonhak said, voice stiff and tight as he refused to look up. “The Heads-“

“You won’t even have any repercussions!” Seoho yelled, glare overtaking desperation. “The Heads haven’t even finished reviewing the case! At worst, you’ll get a mark on your record, but they can’t do anything to you-“

“The fact that there’s a case at all is enough,” Geonhak said, low, but firm and sharp as he looked up at Seoho with an equally sharp stare. “The fact that the mark will still go against me on my record, the fact that they found anything wrong with my actions-“

“There was nothing wrong with your actions, it’s all bureaucratic,” Seoho pushed, unconsciously shoving the door closed behind him as he stepped further in, heart pounding. “The Heads have always been shit about stuff like this. You broke a rule, they have to look into it-“

“I left my accomplished, powerful teammate’s side to save a defenseless child,” Geonhak snapped, lifting his hands helplessly. “They put me under investigation for _that_ -“

“I don’t fucking care that you ran off on your own,” Seoho pressed, rolling his eyes at the argument that was slowly becoming a heavier weight to his chest. “But the first rule we’re taught is to never abandon your partner, so it makes sense that they have to investigate-“

“I was protecting a _child._ ”

Seoho wasn’t usually one to be cut off, but the words died on his tongue as anger broke clear through the calm of Geonhak’s tone.

When he looked at him for longer than a moment, Seoho could see an anger deeper than he’d really ever seen in Geonhak’s eyes, his fists clenched at his sides, tighter than even Seoho’s.

“She was barely old enough to _walk,_ ” he hissed, eyes narrowed into piercing glares that Seoho would have stepped away from, had he not known the person in front of him for years. “She was going to _die._ ”

Seoho took a slow breath, a weird sort of responsible calm washing over him, stalling the fire burning in his blood.

It was the weird calm that came from knowing you needed balance- when one fire flared, the other had to die down to protect things from being burned.

Seoho spoke calmer as Geonhak seethed. “I would rather you leave me in the middle of a swarm than let a kid die,” he said firmly, the words resounding and true. “That’s our job, Geonhak. I didn’t even see her… I would rather you abandon our entire team while we’re getting overwhelmed than for you to stand by and let an innocent be killed.”

Geonhak didn’t show any sign that the anger had faded, but his expression loosened ever so slightly the longer the stared, as if realizing that Seoho was on his side. Which was stupid because Seoho had always been on his side, ever since Geonhak made it clear that he was on his.

“But are you really… are you really going to the leave just because they have to review that case?” he pressed, still a little desperate but softer. “Regardless of how right your actions were, they broke our cardinal rule. You weren’t wrong, but why can’t you just let the Heads finish looking over, they’d see it was justified, and it’ll be fine-“

“Regardless of whether they find it justified, I’ll be punished in some way for breaking the rules and abandoning you,” Geonhak muttered, glancing away to glare at his small suitcase. “I’ll permanently have that mark on my record.”

“You’ll be punished with something like bathroom duty, not expulsion!” Seoho snapped, that fire flaring up in his blood, even as his skin turned icy. “You’re overreacting! You can’t just fucking _leave_ -“

When Geonhak looked up, Seoho didn’t have a choice but to shut his mouth, lips sealed together as he stared at him in what he hoped was a glare, but was probably closer to pleading.

Geonhak’s expression was calm again, as if realizing just how worked up Seoho was.

“I’m sorry,” Geonhak murmured, low and genuine enough for Seoho’s desperation to be replaced by fear.

He wasn’t staying.

He wasn’t unpacking after seeing how ridiculous he was being, how stupid he was being for leaving them-

He was still leaving.

Seoho stared, an ugly mixture of shock and betrayal coating the inside of his veins, disbelief clouding his expression as Geonhak picked up the suitcase.

He was still leaving.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, firmer, voice weakening with the earnestness behind it, almost pained. “But I can’t… I can’t stay at a place that’s going to punish me for protecting people.”

“It’s just a stupid reprimand!” Seoho snapped, cutting himself off as his lungs failed.

“It’s the principal,” Geonhak said firmly, unmoving, unchanging, even with Seoho practically begging him. His expression was softened with regret but firm with decisiveness. “I can’t stay if this place would consider staying at the side of super-powered humans to be more important than saving the life of an innocent child.”

“Geonhak-“

“We signed up to protect people,” he broke in gently, setting the wheels of the bag on the ground. “ _I’m_ here to save people. Not be scrutinized for if it was important enough to take a risk for those people.”

He was really leaving.

“You can’t…” Seoho cursed his tongue that gave up halfway, staring pathetically at Geonhak, who in any other circumstances might have tormented Seoho for the rest of his life about missing him, about being so attached, about being a baby about it.

But Geonhak simply smiled, so small it wasn’t hardly there, but it pierced through the heavy cloud of regret across his face. It wasn’t a happy smile, but a reassuring one.

 _I’ll be fine,_ it said. _I know what I’m doing. Don’t worry about me._

Seoho wasn’t worried, he was fucking pissed. But all that showed through was a helpless immobility as Geonhak walked closer to him, to the door.

“I joined here to stop people from ending up like me,” Geonhak said firmly, standing only a pace or two before Seoho. “And if they’re going to try and stop me in any way… I can’t stay.”

“Where the hell will you even go?” Seoho demanded fiercely, poison on his tongue and fire bursting-

He didn’t demand it. He whispered it, murmuring into the space between them, no poison or fire, only a feeling of helplessness that he wasn’t used to feeling. That he’d never thought he’d need to feel. It bound his tongue and tightened his throat until he was ready to let the heat in his blood burst out and consume whatever happened to walk in its path.

Geonhak hesitated for only a moment, glancing away as if thinking, before looking back at Seoho with that infuriating self-assuredness. “Not sure yet,” he said honestly, but too calmly. “There are other compounds to go to, there’s work to do solo… I’ll figure out a way to keep protecting people.”

Seoho wanted to shake him. Maybe hit him.

Definitely hit him.

“You can still protect people _here_ ,” Seoho pushed, voice hardening. “You don’t have to fucking run away-“

“It’s not running.” Geonhak shook his head, and Seoho had never been more infuriated by him refusing to engage in an argument. “I came here for a reason, Seoho.”

“That reason hasn’t been ruined, you’re just-“

Something flickered in Geonhak’s eyes, shutting Seoho up once more.

It was a look of… something. Something Seoho couldn’t identify, but its message was clear enough: _Please. Don’t make this harder._

_If you don’t want to leave, then don’t,_ he wanted to yell.

But he held his tongue because… because he understood.

He understood why Geonhak would think he needed to leave, to remove himself from an organization that would punish him in the slightest way for protecting the people they signed up to protect.

For impeding his goal of keeping more people from being hurt in a war they fought.

But he didn’t need to _leave._ Seoho would threaten the Heads himself, get the reprimand removed from Geonhak’s record completely, sweep this whole thing under the rug… but the issue still remained.

The fact that the investigation would happen at all.

Geonhak stepped froward, dragging the suitcase behind him, and Seoho opened his mouth, prepared to stop him once more from walking away, but Geonhak didn’t pass him by.

Instead, he walked straight to Seoho, stopping just before him as he released his hold on the luggage and hugged Seoho.

It wasn’t long, but it was firm- brief enough that Seoho barely had time to return it before they both let go.

That smile still tugged at Geonhak’s lip.

_Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay._

Seoho swallowed a bitter taste in his mouth. “If you leave, you’ll have to learn to watch your own back.”

The statement made Geonhak laugh, rolling his eyes as the tension in the air between them lifted, even if the pressure in Seoho’s blood only increased tenfold. The other shrugged, grabbing his suitcase once more.

“And you’ll have to find another partner that can put up with you,” Geonhak fired back, equal parts teasing and hinting, with something softer and more serious. A wish for luck in finding that person.

Heaven knows how Seoho would ever find someone like that again.

He swallowed the darkness in his throat, though, rolling his eyes and punching his shoulder, allowing a small discharge of energy to shock through his arm.

“ _Ow_ \- Asshole,” Geonhak huffed, jerking back and rubbing at the spot with an undeniable smirk. “I hope Youngjo doubles down on you and your new partner and makes your life hell.”

“My partner already made our lives hell.”

Silence fell and Seoho realized he couldn’t buy anymore time.

The weight settled back on their shoulders, Geonhak’s smile fading into almost nothing as his eyes softened. “I’m sorry,” he said again, voice heavy enough with regret that Seoho could feel it twisting his chest.

“I should have never said anything when they asked me what happened,” Seoho whispered, throat tightening.

“They already knew, and you only would have gotten in trouble for lying about it,” Geonhak dismissed, straightening and beginning to move forward. “I’m just surprised that it’s taken this long for something to happen.”

The reason it had never happened before was because Seoho had never let Geonhak out of his sight like that, before. They had always been able to move together, no matter how abrupt a movement.

But this time… he’d turned and Geonhak had been gone, sending waves of nauseous panic shooting through his blood as he’d frantically scanned the area to see where he may have been dragged away or overwhelmed.

The creatures attacking him had kept him too busy to be able to search, those minutes before Geonhak reappeared with a child in his arms creating some of the most terrifying of Seoho’s life.

He couldn’t say that the sight of Geonhak slowly walking passed him and out the door was another contender, but… it was close.

Geonhak left the door open behind him, maybe inviting Seoho to follow him from the room, but Seoho didn’t move. He stood in the half-empty room that was hardly missing anything, but that looked more barren than ever.

He heard the murmured voices of the others speaking to him, the low timbre of Geonhak’s voice more audible, but still unintelligible through the walls. Seoho stared, trying to control the frosty numbness spreading across his skin, warring with the burning acid in his blood. It was enough to make him feel sick, like trying to hold back the urge to vomit.

Seoho shut his eyes, holding his breath.

He was actually leaving.

One of the Heads had asked him in passing, in the hall, if Geonhak had finished packing… and Seoho hadn’t spent more than a second staring at the man before sprinting away.

Geonhak was leaving.

He heard the distant sound of the door of their dorm shutting quietly, the continuing voices of their teammates reaching through muffling walls, washing over Seoho as he clenched his fists as tightly as he shut his eyes.

There was no threat of tears, no bursting fits of anger clawing at his ribs.

There was just a sense of _wrong_ settling in his blood. A sickening sludge in his stomach that felt like he’d eaten something spoiled, making his stomach roll.

He was actually leaving.

All because of these stupid bastards who couldn’t understand that bureaucracy didn’t have a place out in the field where they handled people’s lives. Seoho was equipped to defend himself, he was trained to act alone or with others.

Innocents… by-standers… _children_ were not.

Seoho hated understanding his motivation because that meant Geonhak wasn’t the one he could be angry at. And it wouldn’t do his any good to take out that anger on the Heads. And he wouldn’t dare take it out on his teammates.

So that just left himself.

A whirling, sickening pool of emotions that made the blue of his veins stand out and the darkness of his eyes burn icy blue.

In a mere moment, he wished he had the ability to lose control more than he had in his entire life.

~~~~~~~~~

“Hey.”

For a moment, Seoho didn’t look up, no matter how close the voice sounded because he knew they weren’t talking to him, continuing to stir his soupy rice meal slowly as he leaned on one fist.

A throat cleared as a finger tapped on his table, the vibrations alerting Seoho that it was in fact _his_ attention they were trying to get. “Excuse me?”

He looked up, expecting to see one of the Heads coming to scold him about something or another, but instead he was faced with a boy around his age standing with his own tray of food at Seoho’s empty table.

“Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, gesturing to the seat across from Seoho.

Seoho stared at him for a moment, trying to discern if this was some sort of prank (though those had dropped considerably since his youth, now that they were old enough to just pick outright fights). “Clearly not,” he responded flatly, frown almost twitching towards a glare.

The other boy didn’t seem confused by the reaction, merely nodding. “Is it okay if _I_ sit here?” he questioned, holding his tray out, prepared to sit it down.

There was something slightly sarcastic in his voice.

Almost teasing. Seoho’s eyes narrowed further.

“Don’t you think there would be a reason this table is empty when the others are mostly full?” he asked, jerking his head around the cafeteria that was bustling with activity with the newest arrivals. “Also, what is this- middle school?” he demanded, rolling his eyes. “Do you have to sit by somebody at lunch?”

Once more… the other didn’t seem taken aback by the sharpness or the rejection.

He merely hummed, shrugging. “You’re right, we’re both adults.”

And he sat down.

“I didn’t say you could-“

“It’s not middle school anymore,” he said, looking down at his tray as he picked up a spoon. “I can sit where I want.”

“I don’t _want_ you to sit here.”

At that, the other glanced up, his mouth flat, but something knowing in his eyes. “Well, I want to sit here because it’s the only place in this facility not giving me a headache or bad vibes.”

Seoho rolled his eyes. “I don’t want company- I was here first. You leave.”

He merely took a bite of food, unbothered. “I don’t want to sit anywhere else. Everyone else either seems like an asshole, exclusively here with a predetermined team, or just too obnoxious for me to handle.”

“ _You’re_ too obnoxious for _me_ to handle,” Seoho pushed out, glaring but… finding it hard to keep his footing. “Do you seriously not think there’s a reason this table is empty?”

He took another bite. “I mean, it’s probably because you’re a demonic.”

Seoho would have felt better if the man had punched him in his gut.

Seoho was used to being referred to as a dirty little secret- everyone afraid to say the word, like it would activate something- or wielded like an insult, as if there was nothing worse in the world that he could ever be.

He was not used to hearing that word spoken like just another adjective. Just a part of a sentence.

Instead of confusion, he chose anger, lips curling and fists clenching. “Yeah, so my mom decided to fuck a demon- is there a fucking problem with that?” he hissed under his breath.

The boy looked up with such an expression of sheer stupidity that Seoho’s anger flickered out.

“I’m sitting here, aren’t I?” he said slowly, like Seoho was having trouble following as he gestured to the table they both resided at. “Didn’t I literally just say you’re basically the only person in this place without bad vibes?”

Seoho’s mind was scrambling for traction because… because this was very much uncharted territory.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded, shaking his head to clear it of the winds beginning to swirl. “Is that your power? Sensing _vibes_? How the fuck would a demonic not give off bad vibes?”

Seoho was utterly infuriated when the other held up a hand as he chewed his food, signaling for Seoho to wait. At length, he swallowed.

“My name is Geonhak, and no, I can’t read vibes,” he said, rolling his eyes like that was a stupid thing to guess. “I’m a Dual- empath and flames.”

This boy in front of him somehow made thousands of questions slam around Seoho’s head that he didn’t even _care_ about the answers to, but there were so fucking many of them-

“That’s a weird ass combination for a Dual.”

Usually, Duals had complimentary powers. Things that aided each other- or were perhaps completely opposite. It would have made more sense for him to control fire and ice, or to have empathy and telepathy. Both physical classes or both mental classes.

What use was empathy with pyrokinesis?

Geonhak, however, just shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “I was just born with this, I didn’t pick it.”

He gave Seoho a very pointed look that made him stiffen.

“This whole place is really fucking loud right now, in terms of emotions,” Geonhak said, nodding to the crowds around them. “Teams are picked tomorrow, people from different agencies are meeting again, first timers are nervous- I’ve had a headache ever since I got here.”

Seoho scoffed. “So, what? My emotions are _quiet_?”

“Not really,” he said, taking each of Seoho’s quips and patting them out like a smoldering blanket. “But most people here are either screaming the tough-guy vibes of ‘talk to me and I’ll kill you’ or ‘don’t bother, I’m only here for the people I already know.’ Both very aggressive.”

“I’m pretty sure my entire brain was screaming to be left alone, actually,” Seoho muttered darkly, leaning on one palm because he was already exhausted from this much social interaction.

Geonhak’s spoon paused where it was scooping for more soup as he glanced up curiously. “Is that what you think?” he asked in a way that said Seoho was entirely wrong.

Seoho’s eyes darkened. “What the hell are you doing here?” he repeated, sharper.

Geonhak once more looked at Seoho like he was stupid. “Why do you think?” he asked, setting his spoon down for a moment. “How many reasons are there, really, to sit with someone at these things?”

Seoho’s anger flickered into shock fluttering across his face.

“You’re not seriously trying to form a team with me… are you?”

Geonhak smirked, rolling his eyes obnoxiously. “Ding ding, give him a prize.”

Seoho did not like this person.

“Why?” he demanded, wanting to slam his fists down.

“Why?” Geonhak repeated, once again questioning his intelligence. “There’s really only one reason you pick team members and it’s not going to be your rosy personality, I’m afraid.”

Seoho’s mouth opened, prepared to absolutely tear him apart-

“You’re easily the strongest fighter in this room,” Geonhak said firmly before he got the chance, looking at his food and stirring it idly. “It doesn’t suck that your attitude is better than most, but the main reason is that you should be the person everyone’s vying for to be on their team.”

Seoho laughed, real and genuine because how stupid could you be.

“I’m a _demonic._ ”

“I don’t really give a shit if you’re a fucking Death Stallion or a Hell Hound,” Geonhak said, shrugging and looking at him with a clarity of understanding in his eyes. “I want to be on a team that’s actually going to be able to make a difference. And I can’t do that with a bunch of assholes and overconfident weaklings.”

Seoho stared at him for a moment.

Actually stared at him, instead of just glaring, taking a moment to observe the dumbass in front of himself.

He didn’t look anything out of the ordinary. Some of the people here walked around like they owned the place, they held themselves like they were worth gold and more, they looked at people as if they were beneath them, or- worst of all- they smiled as they offered their hand and smiled while they waited to stab you in the back at the first chance of getting recognition.

People came and went from agency to agency, most of the time. Very few people here were at a compound for the first time in their lives. Seoho had been to two different ones, before this one, and they were all the same, really.

This newest batch of transfers from other agencies were, at the moment, a bunch of powerful strangers and acquaintances sitting in a room. By tomorrow, they would have to make a decision on teams that they would fight with.

Seoho was always assigned to a team after every other partner had been picked and he had been pointedly ignored, and it was never pleasant. Most of the time, he existed on the outside of whatever team’s bubble, and God help whatever partner he’d been assigned to because they almost treated Seoho like they were waiting for him to stab them in the back.

But Seoho had never cared about climbing the ladder. He never cared about team ranking or personal evaluations. He didn’t care about working the numbers until he was good enough to be assigned to the Seoul agency.

The Seoul agency meant jack shit to Seoho. He was just trying to find a place that wasn’t trying to kill him.

The Seoul agency would probably just be nothing more than a firing squad in front of him.

With the way Seoho’s previous teams and teammates had treated it, it was basically Impossible to work well enough together to qualify for Seoul. Which was another reason no one ever wanted him.

Everyone’s goal was Seoul.

“Yeah, well, good luck getting to Seoul with me on that team,” he scoffed, glancing away in annoyance-

“Do I look like a give a fuck about Seoul?” Geonhak demanded, a sharper edge to his words.

Seoho looked back. And he really looked, once more.

It was clear that this wasn’t Geonhak’s first agency, either, but he didn’t wear it like the others did.

In fact… if it wasn’t for the way he spoke about it all, Seoho wouldn’t be able to tell if he was new or not.

He dressed in plain jeans, a shirt, and a dark jacket with a few silver chains around his neck. They weren’t doing any training today, yes, but it was still leagues different than the armor or uniforms that the others wore.

Seoho did a quick glance over of the very limited visible skin, and he didn’t see any notable scars, no worn out skin, no dark circles around his eyes, nothing particularly haggard in his expression.

The one thing he could see… was something very close to anger in his eyes that stared at Seoho. Not quite anger, but very, very close. Determination was too soft a word. It wasn’t anything like vengeance…

It looked like his plan was to stop at nothing… until he achieved a certain goal. But Seoho frowned because… what other goal was there for people like them, but Seoul? Clearly, with a physical and mental class Dual, Geonhak was going to be very much sought after as a teammate.

But he didn’t want Seoul.

He’d bypassed all these people with attitude problems but who were, undoubtedly, powerful… and he came to Seoho.

It was one thing to reluctantly allow a demonic on your team for their power, if it meant getting to Seoul…. But to not _care_ that the person was demonic… to shrug that fact off, as if it was secondary to his skills…

Being demonic had never been secondary to any part of Seoho before.

Geonhak didn’t seem war-hardened but that resolve in his eyes spoke of someone who had _something_ he was fighting for.

Seoho leaned back slightly, arms crossing over his chest slowly. “If you don’t care about Seoul… what are you here for?”

The other’s lips thinned for a moment before his shoulders tightened ever so slightly. “I’m here to protect people.”

Seoho almost wanted to laugh, the self-righteous statement being so high and mighty-

Except it wasn’t.

Not how Geonhak said it. It wasn’t noble or self-righteous or prideful or even ignorantly optimistic. It was true. Fierce and stern, as if silently daring someone to question it. He stated it like a simple fact. As if it was ridiculous to think there was another reason to be here.

“I want to stop as many as I can from dying, and I want to protect people who are being forced to be collateral in a war they didn’t sign up for.”

 _Now_ there was anger in Geonhak’s eyes. Not fiery or obvious… but a cold, hidden anger.

It was an _old_ anger. One that had probably existed in him for a while.

 _Sounds to me like you were collateral, at some point_ ¸ Seoho didn’t say. But he thought it. He glanced Geonhak over again, trying to see where that collateral would have happened in his life.

It was hard. Geonhak was hard to read, which was a little irritating because Seoho was used to people wearing there emotions on their sleeves around him- most of those emotions being disgust or complete ignorance.

“Well, you’re probably the only person here with that sort of goal,” Seoho told him flatly. “And if you told anyone else it, you’d probably get laughed at.”

“You’re not laughing.”

Seoho started, Geonhak looking at him with that anger having faded but knowing eyes leveled with Seoho’s. He huffed, glancing away. “Yeah, but that’s because it’s not a stupid goal. I’m just warning you, most people won’t share that sentiment.”

“I’m not looking for people who share it,” he assured Seoho with a voice all too understanding of the differences between him and others. “I just need people who will help me achieve it.”

“And you chose the one demonic in a dozen city radius?” Seoho demanded, arms crossed as he leaned forward pointedly.

Geonhak’s expression didn’t shift. “Like I said. I just need someone powerful enough to help me get there. And someone who isn’t so blind that they’ll prioritize ranking over that.”

Seoho’s eyes narrowed, observing, even as his skin began to feel colder. “Sounds like you’ve had that problem before.”

“At four different agencies,” Geonhak assured him, looking vaguely annoyed at the fact. “Several times, people made stupid moves that put innocents in danger.”

Seoho rolled his lips, a discomfort growing somewhere between his heart and his lungs. “Are you looking for me to be on your team… or for me to be your partner?”

Because there was a very large difference.

“Either works,” Geonhak said, shrugging. “My first intention was partner, given what I can tell about the difference between you and others.”

“And that difference is…?”

“You’re not an asshole. Not really,” he corrected quickly, making Seoho scowl. “You’re aggressive and rude, but you’re not like the others. Those emotions only go skin deep. Half of the people here would probably abandon their partners without a second thought, if they thought it would benefit them.”

Seoho wanted to protest. As if being called “not an asshole” were an insult. But he was used to being defensive.

Instead, he just felt vaguely ill at the statement. He stared at Geonhak who stared right back, as if he could do this all day.

“You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t know anyone here,” he said, shrugging, and said nothing else.

Seoho’s lips pressed together.

He’d have to pick a team and a partner at some point- or, more likely, be assigned one. He could either accept this one… or end up with someone probably way worse.

At least, he knew, Geonhak didn’t look at him as if waiting for him to snap, no matter what intentions he might be hiding.

He grit his teeth. “How do I know you’re strong enough?” he demanded, nose in the air. “I don’t even know if you’re any good at what you do.”

To Seoho’s utter shock and disbelief, Geonhak smirked, a triumphant one, as if he had won. “There won’t be time tomorrow to do it, so we can steal one of the practice rooms tonight.”

Seoho continued to stare, waiting for Geonhak to take it back or shift nervously or whatever else might lend to the idea he was hiding something or lying.

But Geonhak merely waited patiently, as if he already knew Seoho’s answer.

And Seoho almost wanted to refuse, just to show that he could and that Geonhak didn’t know him.

But he didn’t. He just nodded slowly.

Neither of them said another word for the entire meal.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho stood completely still, arms crossed and expression tense- that indifference managing to last all of three seconds.

The training rooms were large, of course, even these that were only meant for one or two people. Even from his safe distance along the wall, Seoho felt his hair blow backwards as heat blasted across his face powerfully enough for him to flinch away, pressing a hand to heated but unburned skin.

When he jerked his head back up, recovered from the shot of heat, he stared with wide eyes as five targets flying through the air exploded in quick succession, scattering the ground with charred remains as more appeared and were just as swiftly destroyed.

Seoho dropped his eyes from the air, staring at Geonhak who hadn’t moved a single inch from where he had first stood, his fists wrapped around two whips made of flame- a blur of green and white flame hot enough that Seoho could feel it across the room.

There was a deep red flame licking at his feet, almost like an afterthought as he shifted his footing without moving.

The whips elongated and shortened at his silent command, able to completely shatter the discs flying around with a single strike, regardless of whether they attacked close or long range.

Seoho was curious, given that he couldn’t see Geonhak’s expression with his back turned, but part of him… was a little glad he couldn’t see, since the precision with which he struck was… slightly frightening.

Most elementals relied on force, not finesse. Every flame powered individual Seoho had ever met relied on fireballs and flame clouds and spouts of fire shot like bullets.

He’d never seen someone turn them into whips before, much less control them so delicately.

It was only a two minute session, but it seemed to pass in seconds before the discs stopped coming and the lights came back on completely, an automated voice calling out that the simulation was completely.

Seoho stood still, unable to move for a moment as Geonhak dropped his arms, the flames dispersing like embers caught in the wind as he turned around, looking at Seoho with a terse expression that slowly relaxed into something teasing.

“Your hair’s a little…” He gestured to his own head, and Seoho huffed as he glared, fixing the hair the heat wave had mussed.

“That seemed like a bit of a show off demonstration,” he muttered, flattening the hair and letting his arms fall.

“Eh, it was a little flashy, but not really showing off.” Geonhak shrugged, closing the distance between them with the smallest of grins tugging at his lips. “Good enough?”

Were it anyone else, Seoho would have felt the urge to wipe the smug grin off their face.

He wasn’t even entirely sure why he didn’t.

“I’ve never seen someone turn their flames into weapons,” Seoho said in lieu of answering. “I think, at best, I saw someone with a specialized sword that they could cover in flames. The weapon itself wasn’t made of flames.”

Geonhak nodded sternly. “It’s considered difficult to do with any element, but fire is more unruly than some. It takes considerable effort and control to keep the shape and be effective with it.”

“Subtle brag,” Seoho muttered, lips twitching despite himself.

“Facts aren’t bragging,” he retorted just as quick.

“Got lots of practice with it?”

“I basically started my training with the intent to be able to do it.”

“Why?”

“Seemed the most effective way to use my powers.”

Seoho’s eyes narrowed. Geonhak seemed on the verge of laughing. “You’re still fucking insane for wanting me on your team.”

“Is that a yes?” he questioned, eyebrow lifting curiously enough that Seoho felt the urge to try and tear it off.

Somehow, it felt like letting him win.

Oddly enough… he wasn’t sure what he was winning, considering he had no interest in Seoul… and seemingly… genuinely… just wanted a team or partner strong enough to effectively help people.

Seoho’s lips thinned, a small part of him protesting the thought. This was too easy. There had to be some sort of trick involved.

But… despite that small part, he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered, staring at the steel wall, ignoring the flipping in his stomach.

He did not dare let anything like hope form in his chest.

“This is going to bite you in the ass,” Seoho warned, giving him a level stare.

Geonhak shrugged, seemingly unbothered. “As long as its not you putting the dagger in my back,” he said firmly, eyes calm enough but the barest hint of a threat there.

Seoho had no intention of stabbing anyone in the back, even those assholes who treated him like he wasn’t even there.

He nodded.

Geonhak smiled, triumphant.

~~~~~~~~

“Him? Really?” Seoho demanded flatly.

Geonhak nodded firmly, looking entirely sure of himself. “He’s good.”

“He looks like a first grader snuck in.”

Geonhak leveled him with a unImpressed glare. “You asked my opinion. Are you going to trust it or not?”

“I trust you to pick people who aren’t going to spit on me,” he assured him, leaning against the wall as dozens of people and partners wandered around, searching out teammates. “Not necessarily people who don’t suck. How do you know he doesn’t have the power of a fucking water pistol?”

Geonhak sighed, a very open display of exasperation that almost made Seoho want to laugh. “Better to have a weak person who isn’t a piece of shit than someone strong with an attitude problem. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel like spending my time fighting with assholes.”

Seoho sighed, rolling his eyes, crossing his arms- the whole show of annoyance that only made Geonhak retaliate with his own annoyance, like the two of them were moments from starting a fight that never came.

Seoho could trust Geonhak’s judgement on people’s personalities- which were apparently surprisingly easy to read, when their emotions were an open book to you.

He did not overlook, however, the way Geonhak kept rubbing at his temples subtly, a furrow to his brow every now and then as they stood at the edge of the overcrowded room.

Seoho knew that most mental powers came with some drawbacks, and Geonhak had mentioned getting headache from all these people before… He idly wondered how constant a headache it was.

He ignored that for a moment, focusing on the person Geonhak had pointed out.

He was easily the shortest person in the room. The comical thing was the tall, skinny giant beside him- both of them scanning the room and speaking quietly to themselves as they assessed teammates.

Most people had their partners by now, and they were sImply waiting for the right people to come along to form a team.

Seoho didn’t know who the short one was, but the tall one was a biokinetic, as far as he could remember. He vaguely recalled seeing him playing with the potted plants in the hallways, fingers curling while flowers bloomed and closed, leaves growing and wilting on command.

“The shorter one is a Dual as well,” Geonhak said, nodding towards him. “A healer who can create portals.”

Seoho couldn’t help a low Impressed whistle. Those were two very good powers to have.

“From what I hear, though, his healing is mostly useful on small wounds. Anything bigger than a burn or a shallow stab wound, and he isn’t useful for much more than keeping you alive.”

Seoho hummed, slightly disappointed, but it was still better than most could boast.

“Alright,” he murmured, taking note of the two. “Anyone else?”

“Them,” Geonhak said without hesitation, finger pointing to the opposite side of the room where two more men were standing. Rather than conversing quietly with themselves, they were holding a conversation with a woman in a black suit, a set of fangs and claws visible.

“The two guys?” he clarified.

Geonhak hummed. “I know the one with the wings, vaguely. He was at the same first agency I was assigned to, but we were on different teams. He’s good and he’s trustworthy. Probably the nicest guy on the planet.”

Seoho hummed, eyes tracing over slick black wings folded against his back. Feathered, but sleek like a raven’s, not fluffy like an angel. He hummed quietly, eyes glancing over the boy next to him.

And whereas the other Dual had been short enough to be mistaken for a child, this one looked young enough, despite being almost as tall as the one with wings. He held himself with the air of someone who was probably at an agency for the first time.

Seoho wouldn’t call him scared, but he stood a little too close to the other, avoiding eye contact just enough, with his arms pulled in at his sides in a display of discomfort. Clearly, he wasn’t heavily experienced, but Seoho thought he seemed vaguely familiar.

He had no idea what his powers could be, though.

“The second guy looks like he might shit himself if you yelled at him.”

Geonhak merely hummed, neither agreeing or denying. “If I’m thinking of the right person, his powers are shadow manipulation. He’s relatively new, so his arsenal isn’t large, but the tricks he has learned, he’s learned them well.”

Seoho felt slightly annoyed at the thought that Geonhak knew everyone, but then again, Geonhak had always been on the lookout. Seoho never bothered searching people out because he’d only end up being assigned to a random stranger anyway.

“Okay,” Seoho agreed, glancing between the two sets of partners. “So… shall we converse?” he questioned, not even really sure how this process worked. He’d never bothered to participate.

Geonhak nodded, though, and led their way through the crowd.

“Geonhak,” he introduced himself crisply.

The short and tall one glanced them over quickly, sizing them up and very clearly recognizing Seoho- their eyes lingering in a bit of shock over him when he introduced himself.

“Hwanwoong,” the short one said slowly, still looking at Seoho, but without disgust. More like… a confused wariness.

“Keonhee,” the other introduced, seemingly equally confused by their presence.

“Teammates?” Geonhak asked sImply, gesturing between their two little groups. 

Hwanwoong and Keonhee exchanged glanced, a quick, silent conversation passing between them. “A demonic and a Dual, right?” Hwanwoong said, gesturing between the two.

Geonhak nodded.

Seoho prepared to open his mouth, maybe explain himself, maybe reassure them that he wasn’t some insane demon.

He never got the chance before Hwanwoong glanced at Keonhee, who sImply shrugged and nodded. “Sure,” Hwanwoong said, the wariness melting into a small smile. “You two are probably some of the strongest people in this room, from what we’ve heard.”

“With any luck, we can find more,” Geonhak said, lips twitching. “Our next goal was going to be recruiting those two.” He pointed out the others who were now alone and conversing quietly.

It only took a split second, however, before Seoho realized they were looking their way.

“Youngjo and Dongju?” Keonhee questioned curiously. “No doubt Youngjo is skilled, but Dongju is a little wet behind the ears.”

“He seemed talented where it counted,” Hwanwoong excused, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “And if Youngjo partnered with him, he can’t be hopeless.”

“Youngjo would partner with a rock if it gave him puppy eyes,” Keonhee laughed, making Hwanwoong grin. “I am surprised they haven’t joined with anyone yet-“

Keonhee broke off when the two of them began to move, walking through the crowd of people directly for their little group of four.

“Oh?” Hwanwoong mused curiously, straightening. “Hey, guys,” he greeted, a small wave of his hand that the others returned.

Dongju looked torn between smiling nervously and glaring to make himself look larger. Youngjo met them with a warm smile. “Hi.”

“You decided to come over to our neck of the woods?” Keonhee asked, a friendly smile that held no malice. In fact, none of them seemed to be hiding any secrets in their friendliness.

That was a first for Seoho to see.

“Are you four teaming up?” Youngjo asked, glancing between them. His eyes lingered on Seoho for a moment, but they moved on before he barely noticed. “I was actually wanting to ask Geonhak to team up, since I’d seen what he could do when we were at an agency together…” His eyes glanced over the remaining three. “But this doesn’t seem like a bad group to walk into, either.”

Seoho looked to Geonhak who was watching Youngjo levelly. “We were going to seek you out, too,” he assured him, lips twitching. “Though, should I be concerned at you watching me?”

Youngjo laughed, somewhere between a snort and chuckle. “Everyone watched you,” he said airily. “The entire agency was practically talking about you behind your back.”

Seoho couldn’t claim to be an expert at reading anybody, much less Geonhak who swapped between slightly blank faced and warmly emotive.

Seoho was beginning to think it had something to do with how noticeable a headache he was experiencing. But regardless, he could tell that Geonhak was taken aback at the news of his popularity at that agency.

“Yeah,” Youngjo said gently, grinning. “Everyone kept talking about how they were sure you’d be one of the ones going to Seoul, but that you were crazy for never going after it.”

Seoho chewed his lip idly as he glanced away from Geonhak. So… that disinterest in Seoul had always been a thing?

“Was never interested in Seoul,” he assured Youngjo with a light grin. “I was also unaware I had a reputation.” 

“Mostly good things,” the other said honestly, looking slightly apologetic at the fact that it hadn’t been _all_ good things. “Some people thought you were a little… misaligned in your goals.”

There was a flat silence that Seoho might of mistaken for anger, but when he glanced at Geonhak, all he saw a slightly grim set to his lips. “I see,” he said calmly, lips twitching upwards despite the tension there. “Well, hopefully this team will be a little more understanding.”

“Oh, most definitely,” Youngjo said, glancing around those gathered with… well, there was nothing hard or threatening about the smile he passed around, but there was definitely an air of… warning.

As if daring any of them to dispute it.

“Well…” Keonhee said at length, glancing around. “Adding another pair might be a bit excessive,” he said, looking for confirmation. “Did anyone have anyone else they were interested in recruiting?”

Geonhak shook his head. The others all followed. They stood in silence for a moment before smiling at each other. “Well,” Hwanwoong said, shrugging. “Welcome to the team, guys.”

There was a short round of laughter, awkward only in the way that strangers were.

Seoho hated to admit to Geonhak being right in any instance… but he was currently holding (passively) the longest conversation he had ever had with anyone outside go Geonhak, without a single glare, scoff, or fearful sideways glance.

Seoho still refused to let hope find its way into his chest. He merely stood at the side and was grateful that at least this team wouldn’t suck as much as some of his old ones.

And if he chose to be _optimistic_ that they might even been a _good_ team to him… that wasn’t the same thing, nor nearly as dangerous, as hope.

Geonhak smiled at him when they stood at the table to register their team, ignoring the stares and glared that followed him.

It reminded Seoho… of his own powers rushing through his body.

The icy tension of his skin and the burning fire in his veins… with the icy stares that followed him like a threat and the gentle warmth that came in the form of Geonhak’s confident smile.

Seoho… was entirely unused to that sensation. He felt neither relief nor fear… just an odd, tight pressure in his chest, like a dam beginning to build. He wasn’t sure what it was holding back, nor what would happen if it broke…

But Seoho chose to sImply exist in the moment, for now, rather than label emotions that he didn’t have names for.

(He pointedly did not think about the fact that Geonhak could probably read each flit of panic or confusion through his mind.)

(He wasn’t sure he could handle someone knowing him on that kind of level.)

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho went through six partners in the span of a month.

At the demand of the Heads, Youngjo pulled him aside after number three.

“Seoho…”

He didn’t look at the older, pointedly staring (glaring) at the wall with his arms crossed tightly.

“I… I know,” Youngjo said quietly, voice pained on Seoho’s behalf, because Geonhak may have been able to read emotions, but Youngjo didn’t need another power to be able to hurt on someone’s behalf. “I _know_ ,” he repeated, soft and stressed. “But can’t you just… give these new people a chance?”

No. No, Seoho could fucking not.

Instead, he grit his teeth. “I have,” he muttered. “They’re the ones who suck.”

“None of them have lasted long enough for you to know-“

“I know the way they look at me,” Seoho said, carefully holding his voice back from becoming a sneer or a snap. “And I can’t trust someone who looks at me like they do.”

Youngjo was silent. “Seoho, you’re never going to trust someone like you trusted Geonhak.”

Seoho’s teeth grit together painfully tight. “And?” he muttered stiffly.

“I’m never going to tell you to trust someone you know you can’t,” he said gently. “But… you can’t be looking for what you had with Geonhak in these people. You’ll never find it.”

“All I’m looking for is someone who doesn’t look at me like a ticking fucking time bomb,” he finally snapped- not at Youngjo but at the world. The Heads. The bastards crawling all over this fucking compound. “Why the fuck should I trust them when they don’t trust me?”

Youngjo was silent, and Seoho knew it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to tell this to Youngjo because he was just doing what the Heads told him, filling the requirements he had as the leader of their team…

But Seoho’s point still stood.

Why the fuck should he bother trusting someone who couldn’t afford him the same? As if Seoho and his team hadn’t been existing at this same agency for five years now, never having a single issue…

How could these people still look at him like that?

Youngjo’s expression finally softened around the edges. “Well, I’ve done what the Heads told me to do,” He said, shrugging and dropping the conversation he didn’t even agree with. “I can’t force you to trust anyone, Seoho. And I’ve gotten my card punched by giving you the message.”

Seoho huffed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Youngjo laid a hand on his shoulder, though, squeezing in a silent comfort before leaving him alone in his room.

He stared at the empty bed across from his own.

He tried very hard not to feel anything negative. No hatred or betrayal… and he didn’t. At least, not on the surface. If Geonhak were here, he’d probably roll his eyed and remind Seoho that he couldn’t lie to him, not about stuff like that.

Seoho huffed, throwing himself back on the bed like he was some teenager again, and staring at the ceiling.

By the time partner number six had come and gone (all six of them had requested to be transferred from the team, due to a hostile environment and uncooperative partner), Seoho was ready to lose every part of his mind still intact.

The straw that broke the camel’s back, though… was number seven.

They hadn’t even had time to go on a mission together. Number seven was a man with telekinesis who held himself like he was ten feet tall.

Most mental classes were like that. Seoho merely stared at him when he introduced himself, seemingly less than thrilled as he faced Seoho.

“So… we’re partners,” he said flatly.

Seoho resisted the urge to just tell the man to fuck off, and he nodded. Cordial, just like Youngjo had asked of him. “Yep.”

The man’s smile was pained. “Awesome.”

Number seven lasted two days. The first day, all he did was follow them around during free time and talk to the others during meals, ignoring that Seoho was even there. This was fine by Seoho for the first time in his life. 

On day two, however, Youngjo stopped him before he could sit beside Hwanwoong to avoid Seoho’s empty seat. He leveled the man with a stern gaze. “If you’re going to be Seoho’s partner, you have to actually acknowledge him.”

Part of Seoho wanted to tell Youngjo not to bother, that he was only going to either make it worse or be entirely ineffectual.

But at this point, he was too fucking tired to care.

The man smiled painfully. “I do acknowledge him, I just wanted-“

Youngjo’s expression didn’t shift, but he had that uncanny to convey a threat without ever breaking a smile. The telepath’s lips thinned and he sat across from Seoho.

The look he gave him very clearly demanded _Do not speak to me._

Seoho happily complied, merely giving him a dirty look before focusing on his food. Neither of them said a word throughout the entire meal.

And barely five hours later, while in the practice room for a few tests for how well their newest additional power would mesh… things went a bit to hell.

They were only on round one, still on formless robots and drone, not even having gotten to the simulation or holograms.

One of the drones shooting flames from its gun chased Seoho back from where they had tried to remain tightly grouped. That burning in his veins increased as his skin felt icy, blue flames beginning to crackle like strikes of lightning across his skin.

He leapt backwards, avoiding the flames as he shot a burst of icy white lightning from his fingertips, feeling the burn increase at that exit point, eyes burning frostily.

When Seoho got his footing back, after the short chase, he realized the telekinetic was not beside him.

In fact, he was across the room, near Youngjo and Dongju who finally destroyed enough laser drones to notice their extra tag along.

“Yuhan!” Youngjo practically yelled, nearly making all of them jump at the anger in his voice. “Get to your partner!”

Idly, Seoho noted that that was the man’s name.

More prominently, he glared as the man looked on the verge of resisting before thinking better of it and jogging over to Seoho’s side with a dirty look.

“What exactly am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered, a fingertip pressed to his temple as two drones slammed together in a small explosion. “It’s not like you probably even need any help out in the field.”

Seoho wasn’t entirely sure Yuhan intended for him to be able to hear, his skin feeling almost painfully cold as he shot another burst of frigid blue energy from his fingertips, his chest burning for reasons entirely unrelated to his powers.

When he glanced at his hands, the blue of his veins were too visible and the skin was too pale.

One drone flew itself into a wall at Yuhan’s command.

Seoho ignored him, turning his back and focusing on keeping any drones from getting to close to either them or their teammates, when he could spare it. White steam began to curl from his skin, soaking out into the air like liquid nitrogen.

“Looks like you want to operate on your own pretty badly,” Yuhan muttered, making Seoho’s muscles tense, prepared to turn around and demand what the fuck his problem was-

He didn’t get a chance before something hot and very fucking painful shot him directly between his shoulder blades.

Seoho went down with a cry of both pain and surprise, hitting the ground hard enough to nearly break his jaw as the air was knocked from him. For a moment, he merely laid there, staring at the grey metal in a blur of anger and aching muscles.

Those lasers wouldn’t kill, but they were intended to hurt like a bitch.

Gritting his teeth to hide a wince, he got to his hands and knees, forcing air into his lungs as he breathed through the urge to collapse back on the ground. “Fucking bastard,” he hissed, glaring over his shoulder at Yuhan only feet away, oblivious to the drone that had had an open shot at Seoho’s back.

Before he could shout some profanity at the man, however, Youngjo yelled across the room, anger clear enough that every froze for a moment.

“ _Yuhan!_ Your partner!” 

He turned, innocently unaware, rolling his eyes at the sight of Seoho on the ground as he rushed over, clearly burdened by the last of _watching his partner’s back_.

He held a disinterested hand down to Seoho, lips twisted in something too close to disgust for the situation they were in, where they were supposed to be watching each other’s backs.

“I don’t know what the hell you’d even need a partner for,” Yuhan muttered, pulling Seoho gracelessly to his feet. “You could probably just talk to the fucking Hell Hounds and shit, couldn’t you? They probably recognize you-”

Seoho didn’t do anything. Really, he didn’t.

But suddenly Yuhan was flying back, crumbling to the ground and holding his arm with a cry of pain, several feet back from where the two of them had been standing.

Seoho felt icy flames burning his fingertips, licking their way up his arm-

“End simulation!” Youngjo’s voice called, the sound echoing through Seoho’s mind that had a bit of static buzzing over it. He saw Youngjo land, wings twitching agitatedly as the rest of them ran over.

Hwanwoong followed Youngjo, but Keonhee and Dongju stood beside Seoho, glancing him over for any injury as he stared murderously at the man on the floor slowly sitting up, the skin of his arm seeming frostbitten and pale, small spark of hellfire bursting along it with leftover energy.

“What happened?” Youngjo demanded, making no real move to help Yuhan up, though Hwanwoong squatted beside him, looking distasteful and making no move to actually begin healing him.

Anger and hatred burned in Yuhan’s eyes. “This fucking psychopath attacked me!” he yelled, getting to his feet and holding his arm tightly to his chest. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he accused, voice echoing around the metal.

Youngjo turned to Seoho, not accusing but frowning in concern because even if Seoho was a jackass to everyone who tried to be his partner, he had never openly attacked one.

He stood completely still, never letting murderous eyes flicker away from Yuhan.

“He said that I could communicate with the hell creatures. That they would recognize me,” he said, voice flat and twisted with an ugly anger that he hadn’t felt in… a long fucking time.

Everyone else in the room turned to Yuhan, the silence heavy enough to suffocate him, but he didn’t back down, undaunted by the anger building between them.

“Is that so fucking hard to believe?” he snapped, fingertips digging into his wounded arm. “He’s half one of them! He’s got the same fucking powers as them-“

“Go,” Youngjo broke in, not yelling but with a quiet, shaking anger in his voice. He pointed a sharp finger to the door. “Get to the infirmary, and you can let them know why you were injured. After completely abandoning and ignoring your partner during a training sim.”

“What the point of having a healer on the team if he doesn’t do his fucking job?” Yuhan demanded, turning his glare to Hwanwoong-

“He’s no longer your teammate,” Keonhee said, voice as dark as Seoho had ever heard it. “Get the fuck out.”

Yuhan looked prepared to continue fighting, glare sharpening and darkening, turning back to Seoho as if he had personally turned them against him.

Seoho met him for every ounce of anger tenfold, his hands shaking and his chest twisting until it was almost too tight to bear. It was the kind of outright anger, outright attack, that he had never needed to feel in five years and more.

But Yuhan must have realized that he was one person against five furious individuals, huffing viciously as he turned on his heel with a snarl. “You’re all fucking insane for putting up with that,” he spat over his shoulder.

Seoho was still entirely still as Hwanwoong went to move forward, possibly to chase after him, but Youngjo stopped him with a hand catching his arm, though his eyes glared at the man storming from the room.

The silence that followed his departure… was suffocating. Seoho could usually brush it off, but his blood was boiling and his skin was freezing and his head was buzzing with anger and injustice-

“Let’s go,” Youngjo’s voice said, infinitely calmer and more gentle, turning to Seoho with pain in his eyes and regret tightening his mouth. “We’re done here for today.”

Seoho wasn’t even sure he was breathing, much less able to move, staring at the closed door.

“Fucking asshole,” Dongju muttered, ignoring the glance that Youngjo gave that might have scolded him for language. “Why the fuck do they even agree to the team if they’re just going to be dicks about it.”

“It seems like most of them don’t understand what five years looks like,” Keonhee muttered, grip tightening on Seoho. “Come on,” he said, voice softening. “Let’s just go back to the dorm.”

Seoho didn’t say a word, but he forced his legs to move when they gently tugged him where he needed to go.

None of them bothered to comfort him over the words they all knew weren’t true. They stayed in silence as they returned to the dorm and Seoho headed for his room, giving them a short glance back in way of saying that he was okay.

He was just so fucking _angry._

And that anger only doubled when he saw the empty bed and bare shelves and barren drawers.

Why the fuck did he _leave?_

Seoho didn’t know what to do with himself so he laid on the bed, not even getting beneath the covers, and he faced the wall, letting the anger wash over him, now that he was alone and away from people.

Provoked or not, he would be punished for attacking a teammate, but his only justice was that Yuhan would be punished for abandoning a teammate during a training sim. Seoho took no real pleasure in that, though.

Once more… for another moment- one of several that had happened over the course of the month… Seoho wondered what would happen if he left.

Or, rather, if he had left with Geonhak, instead of staying.

His thoughts never actually went passed that: a sImple question, without ever exploring what the answers might be. It was like a missing page in a script, nothing to lend to his imagination.

Anger rolled over him in waves, but with time it felt less and less like rage and more and more like helplessness.

That same feeling of helplessness as he watched Geonhak walk out of the door.

He knew why Geonhak needed to leave, why it was such a big deal that they would punish him for protecting someone…

But why… _why_ did he have to do it?

They could have kept protecting people together, so why…

Seoho felt the familiar burn of tears begin to grow, and he shut his eyes tight enough that they could never fall. Within that month, he had never let them fall. It was stupid to let them fall.

_I want to make sure no one else has to end up like me._

Seoho grit his teeth, a wave of nausea hitting his stomach. Like him… Like what? Alone? Abandoned? Defenseless?

Seoho had never been one for self-pity, but it seemed like Geonhak had let someone end up like him pretty harshly.

He immediately buried his face in the pillow, shame slamming into his throat like a fist. It wasn’t the same. It really wasn’t.

Seoho didn’t fall asleep, but he lost track of time until his door opened with a gentle knock that could only be Youngjo. He heard him open the door, but he didn’t step inside.

“Seoho?”

He didn’t answer, but Youngjo knew he wasn’t asleep.

“I already talked with the Heads. I convinced them to stop trying to assign you partners.”

Seoho frowned, heart slowing.

“Would you be comfortable with working with Keonhee and Hwanwoong as your partners?” he asked quietly. “I know it’s not customary, but… given everything, it might be a good option for now.”

Seoho didn’t want them for partners. And it meant nothing against the others, and they knew that it meant nothing.

Teams were your family. You looked out for each other.

But if done right… partners were supposed to be _yours._ In fact, partnering with them was probably more of an intrusion on Hwanwoong and Keonhee than it was for Seoho.

He hummed, though, because what other options did he have at this point.

It wasn’t a perfect solution, it wasn’t the solution that he wanted… but it was good enough, if it meant that he would stop seeing the sneers and glares and disgust.

The thought that he could communicate with hell creatures- fucking ridiculous.

Youngjo left with a quiet goodbye, and Seoho laid in silence.

 _Nice going, Geonhak_ , he huffed. _You fucked everything up by being a good person with morals. Fucking asshole._

~~~~~~~~

Seoho’s first fight with Geonhak was… memorable.

“Memorable” in that it was the first fight Seoho had likely ever been a part of that didn’t end with him being neglected by his partner. He already knew that Geonhak was able to watch his back, evident by their training sessions together.

But the first moment they stepped into the field, and the drones and holograms turned into Death Stallions and Hell Hounds…

Seoho stood side by side, and for the first time in his life he felt a physical presence supporting him. When he turned, from the corner of his eye… he saw Geonhak, intent of pushing back swarms of hell creatures that had broke through barriers into the surface world, his whips lashing out as accurately as any gun, splitting demons and Death Stallions in half.

But Seoho could tell… a piece of Geonhak’s attention was always on him- a glance thrown from the side of his vision, a quick turn that would bring Seoho into his sights for a brief moment… and a whip lashing and cracking through a Hell Hound tearing its way through Seoho’s defenses that were being used against a Hell Imp trying to break through a building’s windows.

The Hell Imps were short, just reaching waist height, but they were slippery, slimy little creatures with crooked noses and mossy skin with mischievous eyes that burned the same icy blue as Seoho’s mist and flames, hair clinging to their scalps in disgusting clumps.

They only ever traveled in hoards.

Seoho grit his teeth, blasting bursts of hellfire from his palm, skin cooling rapidly as his stomach burned, shooting them off the bricks like a child at a carnival game-

Seoho heard the snarl like acid against his ear, and he felt the ground beginning to vibrate beneath his boots.

Seoho only had enough time to turn his head, not even having ceased his assault against the Hell Imps, suddenly staring in the bloodied maw of a Hell Hound, teeth the size of daggers shooting acrid breath across his skin-

Before Seoho could even begin to feel fear or alarm, a white whip of flame wrapped around the Hound’s throat, causing it to scream deafeningly-

Hell creatures were mostly immune to hellfire, but they could be burned by regular flame just as easily as humans.

Seoho stared, eyes blowing wide as Geonhak now faced him entirely, both hands wrapped around the whip he pulled back, forcing the Hell Hound away as it continued to scream and thrash in the burning grip-

Hell Hounds varied in sizes… this one was as tall as Seoho’s chest, bare pink skin with tufts of fur stuck in bloodied clumps as ice burned in its eyes… and Geonhak was currently yanking it backwards, flipping it onto its back with an echoing yelp.

In its moment of vulnerability, Geonhak’s over hand formed a whip, striking it hard enough in the stomach for a pitiful, piercing yelp to-

“Seoho!”

Seoho didn’t notice Geonhak’s sharp eyes looking from the Hell Hound up to him, but he heard the warning yell, turning in time for an Imp to leap from the wall, screeching with glee at its unsuspecting prey-

He struck it away with he back of his fist, frosty flame bursting across the creatures skin as it slammed into the concrete, screeching with rage that cut off abruptly as Seoho threw an arc of azure lightning into its chest as he stumbled back, more of them beginning to hop off the building- splitting their numbers between destruction and fighting.

When he stumbled back closer to where Geonhak stood, the Hell Hound was nothing but ash.

“Sorry,” he muttered, shaking his head angrily at being caught aware, striking down another Imp, catching a second to throw back at a third, lightning beginning to crackle at his feet, eyes turning icy.

“Did it get you?” Geonhak demanded, voice hardened with severity but… lacking any sort of animosity towards Seoho. His whips began picking off the Imps swarming the bricks of the building, deafening cracks piercing the air as they shrieked, falling with broken glass and brick tumbling after them.

“No,” Seoho said sharply, risking a glance behind them at the rest of the city square, hellfire and real fire burning across the ground, the buildings, the creatures swarming as teams worked to defend their assigned sectors.

In that brief glance, he saw Youngjo soaring above the carnage- swooping down to snatch some of the smaller creatures to fly into the air and drop. Directly below him, Dongju wrapped creatures in shadows, pinning them in place like fly traps as shadows crawled up their bodies, consuming as they went.

Near the opposite end of the street, Hwanwoong disappeared and reappeared in rapid succession, opening portals beneath creatures and teleporting them away from the buildings, handing them over to Keonhee on a silver platter as vines and thorns and stems broke through the concrete, piercing and wrapping and slamming-

Seoho blasted a final Imp from the building, watching it hit the ground with a sickening noise-

Galloping reached his ears faster than the Hell Hound’s snarls had, Seoho whipping around and already bringing up a wall of hellfire twice as tall and wide as himself that a Death Stallion slammed into like a battering ram, neighing hoarsely, vibrations traveling down Seoho’s arms as the wall of energy was pushed against.

Death Stallions were almost nothing more than skin stretched over bone, gaunt, empty eye sockets and rotten teeth that were more blood than calcium. Hooves that were crusted in dirt, blood, and hellfire slammed against Seoho’s shield with an inhuman strength that their boney bodies didn’t support.

Seoho’s feet slid along the concrete, scrambling for purchase as the stallion brought down its hooves again, slamming its head against it, pushing him further back, arms shaking-

Seoho brought one hand back, prepared to thrust forward and wrap the wall around the Death Stallion and crush-

With a hoarse cry of rage, hooves slammed against the wall viciously, the force of it making Seoho’s arm buckle- the wall shattering, the blast of energy from the break sending Seoho flying, feet nearly leaving the ground.

His body hit another, slamming to a stop that was much softer than the ground, his feet still holding him up.

Head snapping up, he stared up at Geonhak holding him up.

Seoho was only stunned for a moment before dropping his head to the stallion finally charging forward with the barrier gone. Barely a moment passed before Seoho forced a leg beneath himself, thrusting a hand out with his teeth clenched together.

Geonhak’s grip tightened on him as the force of the lightning strike pushed him back, but it struck the stallion before it could manage another step, piercing through its chest and sending it stumbling, hooves over head.

Seoho blew out a breath, forcing himself to his feet as Geonhak released him.

“Alright?” Geonhak questioned as Seoho dusted off his front irritatedly.

“Yeah,” he muttered, scanning the area. There wasn’t any real embarrassment at the lack of steadiness on his own part, given that he was used to not having anyone there to watch his back, which usually ended up with more bruises than not on his end.

The number of creatures had rapidly decreased in those moments, pushed to the edges of the streets where they were beginning to be corralled.

“There’s no one left in the area, is there?” Seoho questioned, scanning the edges of buildings and through the broken windows for any frightened faces that hadn’t been evacuated in time.

“I’ve been looking,” Geonhak assured him, doing his own mental sweep. “Haven’t seen anyone.”

“Then let’s move further down,” Seoho decided, eyes hard. “The fight’s almost over.”

The two of them moved quickly, running over broken concrete and split sidewalks from where the creatures had broken out from the earth.

It was odd… to run in a fight and have someone keeping pace with him.

It was odd to fight and have someone beside him.

It was odd to be in danger and have someone to aid him.

He risked a glance at Geonhak as they ran, eyes scanning the buildings they passed for any civilians caught in the wreckage, his whip held in a loose loop in his gloved fist as they ran.

“Trust” was a dangerous word for Seoho… but he felt-

Only having his eyes currently on Geonhak allowed Seoho to watch him suddenly fall into the ground.

It wasn’t a hole already existing from a creature, but one that opened up beneath Geonhak’s feet, Seoho’s legs nearly buckling from the weakened ground beneath them, but he didn’t fall.

He watched Geonhak begin to disappear into the dark hole, twice as wide as his body.

There was no time for him to even cry out in alarm, already halfway gone by the time Seoho’s body threw itself to the ground, a hand launching forward, looking for anything to grasp-

In the darkness of the chasm, Seoho was a flickering stream of light flash, his fingers closing around the only part that was still close enough to grasp.

His free hand slammed against the concrete to stop Geonhak’s weight from dragging him down, teeth gritting in effort that very quickly turned into an effort to stop a scream from tearing its way from his throat as his hand closed around the middle of Geonhak’s flame whip.

Seoho hadn’t thought the flames were exactly solid, but his fingers closed around it and felt the shape of it.

He also very much felt the burn searing against his skin, blistering and-

The flames abruptly changed from a brilliant white to a deep red, Seoho gasping out a sharp breath that felt like glass in his lungs as it hurt _so fucking bad-_

“ _Seoho!_ ”

Geonhak’s voice was a mixture of fear, shock, and something that demanded if Seoho was fucking crazy.

Seoho realized how fucking stupid he was being, just sitting here as he pushed against the concrete with his free hand, beginning an agonizing motion to pull Geonhak back up.

The good news was that his hand was practically numb at this point, and the pain had washed over his entire body, equalizing enough that he could get his knees beneath him, smart enough not to use his non-burned hand to help.

“ _Seoho-_ Are you fucking insane?” Geonhak yelled, voice echoing from the darkness. “ _Let go_!”

Even if Seoho couldn’t feel the fire eating at his skin anymore, he felt his hand beginning to shake, his grip loosening as nerves and muscles weakened-

He leaned back, planting his feet against the torn up concrete as a base, wrapping his non-injured hand around the outside of his other hand, avoiding the flames as he shut his eyes tight enough to hurt, yanking upwards with all his strength.

He squeezed an eye open, trying to see if he had dragged it far enough, but he saw Geonhak’s hand appear over the edge of the hole, gripping white knuckled onto a torn piece of asphalt.

The flames suddenly disappeared from Seoho’s hands, dispersing like ash as Geonhak’s other arm appeared, dragging himself over the edge, his head appearing, dusted with dirt-

The eyes that stared at him held horror and disbelief, once again tainted with a belief that Seoho was insane.

The moment the flames disappeared, the numbness faded and pins and needles attacked his skin with a new viciousness. He choked on a curse, doubled over he clutched his hand to his chest, his entire body throbbing with every beat of his heart that sent a new pulse of pain that forced a curse from his lips.

“Fucking _shit-_ “

Seoho couldn’t stop a panicked yelp of pain when Geonhak was suddenly next to him, pulling the hand away from his chest, a roar of pain dulling Seoho’s ears as he stared at his hand for the first time.

He was actually grateful for the fact his vision was blurry, only allowing him a glImpse of red covering his entire hand and dripping from it as he tensed with agony stabbing into every nerve. He vaguely heard Geonhak yelling for Hwanwoong.

Seoho blinked slowly, but when he opened his eyes, black was beginning to creep into the edges of his vision, so he shut his eyes completely, mouth shut to avoid vomiting.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Geonhak practically shouted, or maybe it just sounded louder since he was closer. “Why the hell didn’t you fucking grab it- Why didn’t you let go-“

Seoho sucked breaths through his teeth, sweat clinging to his clammy skin-

“Holy shit,” Hwanwoong’s voice whispered, suddenly beside him, grabbing his hand from Geonhak’s. “Fucking- This might be too deep for me to heal completely, but-“

Seoho was slightly frightened when he didn’t feel anything immediately, but then the pain changed to a different kind- throbbing and piercing, to dull and freezing, like an ice cube was being pressed to his palm.

The abrupt change made him sway slightly, eyes still shut tight and ragged breathing as he tried to keep unconsciousness from creeping in. Geonhak’s hand appeared on his shoulder, holding him steady-

Ice flared along his hand, sharper than a knife’s blade stabbing through his skin.

He choked on a curse or a cry or a yelp, trying to yank his hand away, but Hwanwoong’s grip was tighter than steel-

“-because he was an idiot,” he realized Geonhak was speaking to Hwanwoong.

“It’s burned to the bone,” Hwanwoong muttered, making Seoho glad that his eyes were closed, though the thought of it made his stomach convulse. “His whole arm is bad, too… Less than his hand-“

“Because he was a fucking idiot,” Geonhak hissed, apparently not having much other thoughts on Seoho’s actions than that.

There was a short pause that forced Seoho to realize the pain climbing up his arm, almost like a poison in his veins, making him breathe out harshly- _not_ a whImper.

And then Hwanwoong spoke quietly. “If he hadn’t, you’d be down in the Hellscape,” he murmured, a gentle reminder.

Seoho felt Geonhak’s grip tighten on his shoulder, either because he was more unsteady than he felt or maybe displeased at being reminded.

“He was still an idiot,” he muttered, though his voice was less harsh.

“No doubt,” Hwanwoong said, voice trying to be light. “But he still saved your ass.”

Seoho wasn’t sure what happened after that because he passed out completely.

What he was sure about… was the fact that he had never before instinctively cared whether his partners lived or died. His partners looked out for themselves, and he looked out for himself.

He was not used to having someone to catch him.

He was not used to catching someone else.

And it was a strange, strange feeling eating at his chest. 

~~~~~~~~

Fighting alongside Keonhee and Hwanwoong was not bad by any means.

He could trust them at his back, he knew their powers inside and out, and they trusted him just as Implicitly.

But everyone… everyone on that team knew that it wasn’t the same.

But Seoho didn’t say a word about it, assuaging any hesitancies or apologies they tried to offer because it wasn’t their fault and this was the best case scenario for them. The Heads were not happy, but they were even less happy with Seoho’s attitude towards his assigned partners.

Seoho accepted this as his new situation… and he tried not to think about it.

Realistically… it could all be worse.

(Not really, but that’s what Seoho had to keep telling himself to stop himself from being swallowed by what ifs.)

Geonhak had left, but Seoho still got information on him. The agencies were one large grapevine, and Seoho already knew that he and Geonhak had always been a target of gossip that traveled inside and outside the compound.

Demonics were not exactly common in this line of work.

It was even less common for them to successfully partner and team up in any successful way.

It was _unheard_ of that a pair involving a demonic would rise to be on the verge of being recommended to Seoul… and yet, to have both partners refuse the recommendation.

Seoho stared at his dinner that he’d hardly touched, despite being starving after training all day.

They had been on the verge of being recommended to Seoul. They had done it while only caring about protecting those that couldn’t protect themselves… and neither of them had cared- either about those who stared in shock at their success or bitterness at their ranking.

Seoho and Geonhak had been _good_ partners.

They had worked well together, they had protected each other, and they had _meshed._ Geonhak never treated Seoho with the indifference he thought was best-case, he had treated him equally.

Geonhak was his friend, as much as his entire team had been, but he was Seoho’s _partner_.

That made him different. And everyone understood that.

So Seoho, while unable to ask around explicitly (not for lack of information, but for the fact that anyone he asked would probably spit in his face), he always caught word being passed around in the cafeteria because even after leaving, Geonhak was still known around here as that dumbass who partnered with the demonic.

_“I heard he didn’t join another agency.”_

_“He’s gone rogue.”_

_“He’s not rogue, he’s just going freelance.”_

_“Let’s see how long that lasts.”_

_“Freelancers never last long. He’ll be Hell Hound chow in a week.”_

Seoho felt a different kind of anger in his chest, the familiar kind that always made him smack Geonhak over the head or try to smother him with a pillow on his bed.

The kind of anger that was brought about specifically by Geonhak being stupid, which happened more often than Seoho had ever anticipated.

The idiot was going to get himself killed, going freelance. There had been no word of him having a partner along with him, since most freelancers worked alone, outside of agency control.

Working alone was the dumbest thing you could possibly do in this line of work.

And even as he ranted to the others about that stupidity (them all looking torn between their own concern and a touch of relief at this being the most alive they’d seen Seoho in weeks), he sat quietly on his bed, staring at his hands.

Their most recent piece of news, three months after Geonhak left, was that he was creating a stir in the North, just out of reach of the Incheon agency, taking care of a vampire nest and leaving rumors that the sudden drop in werewolf attacks were his doing, as well.

Talented and hard working to a fault, as usual.

Seoho still glared at his empty bed, at least taking each piece of news- rumor or otherwise- as proof that he wasn’t dead yet.

Geonhak… was nothing like what Seoho had first thought he was.

There were times, in the past, where he seemed standoffish, but those times mostly came when the emotions rushing around him got too noisy and being quiet, controlling his own emotions, made them easier to block.

There were times he was openly loud and annoying. This was most often when they were in their dorm, just their team, spending their free moments together and discovering that while Dongju may have a small reservation about his powers, he had no reservations about being a bitch (in Geonhak’s words).

There were times when Geonhak would roll his eyes and shove off whatever person had decided to attach themselves to his person (mostly Dongju and Hwanwoong), and there were times that he was the one throwing an arm across Seoho’s shoulders, sitting on their teammates, and just being generally annoying.

Seoho had never had anyone who was comfortable in his presence.

He’d never, in all his life, known someone who touched him with ease, who talked to him like anyone else, who annoyed him intentionally and never showed an ounce of fear, even when he glared and threatened him to stop poking him for fuck’s sake-

Geonhak had been equal parts annoying and understanding, childish and confident, easygoing and entirely focused with intent.

The difference between the Geonhak that laughed, bright and open as Seoho glared at him for teasing, and the Geonhak that threw himself at Seoho’s barriers and danced with him during battle, trusting that Seoho would carry him through.

The difference between the Geonhak that shoved Dongju into Hwanwoong’s portals when he was annoying, and the Geonhak who stood back to back with Seoho, slicing through hell creatures without hesitation or mistake.

The brightness in his eyes as Seoho and he talked during lunch, and the sharpness that filled him- mixtures of hate, determination, and intent- as he mowed through creatures and shouted directions to innocents…

Geonhak was not lacking in skill or determination by any means.

If there were a person on this earth that could survive on their own… it was Geonhak. But that didn’t mean Seoho didn’t curse him, hands squeezed together like an unconscious prayer, knowing that the likelihood of being hurt or worse… was infinitely higher.

How was Geonhak supposed to carry his morals if he was dead?

Who was going to make sure more people didn’t end up like him, if he let his morals force him into situations where he was going to die?

Seoho stared at his hand, slowly opening it from the fist it had formed. He touched along the inside of his knuckles, feeling the slighter rougher skin from the leftover scarring from that first fight they’d worked together for. Hwanwoong had healed it nearly completely, but his powers weren’t magic, just physical, and the barest of scars had remained.

Geonhak had confronted him about it back in their room.

_“Why the hell did you grab on?”_

_“To save your ass?”_

_“That was literally the dumbest thing you could have-“_

_“What was I supposed to do? Let you fall?”_

_Geonhak hadn’t had an answer for that, though his eyes still shone with pale anger and dark horror at the bandage around Seoho’s hand._

That was the first moment in Seoho’s life… that he saw someone concerned for him. Worried for him.

That was the first moment that Seoho saw someone care.

It was also the first moment that Seoho cared. If nothing else… he owed Geonhak the same level of dedication he was giving Seoho. That had formed very rapidly into a friendship that was no longer only rooted in a give-and-take relationship for work.

If Geonhak’s stupid, admirable morals got him killed for the sake of protecting innocents… Seoho was going to kill him.

If those unshakable ethics were the reason he didn’t join another agency, if they were the reason he operated alone to be free to protect how he wished, if they were what stopped him from getting another partner for fear of being compromised in his split-second decision to save someone…

If Geonhak left, only to end up dead… Seoho was going to kill him.

“How are you supposed to stop people from ending up like you if you end up dead?” Seoho muttered, fist closing tightly, eyes staring blankly at the empty bed.

Maybe Seoho was too dramatic.

Geonhak leaving wasn’t the end of the world, but… it was still the first stable part of Seoho’s life that was suddenly gone. It was the first friend, first act of kindness, first hand reaching out, first piece of support, first understanding, first stable platform for him to stand on… suddenly ripping away from his life.

It wasn’t as if Seoho had thought they’d be partners for the rest of their lives, but… the sudden absence at his side was disorienting and unbalancing.

Seoho had thought that he would be someone to help Geonhak reach those goals, uphold those principles, if for nothing else but to say that he made a difference that mattered.

~~~~~~~~~

“Where’d you get those?” Seoho asked the first time he noticed the scars.

Geonhak was fond of his jackets and gloves- just as a part of his usual daily attire, as well as his choice of battle armor.

The first time they shared their room and Geonhak exited the bathroom in nothing but sweatpants and a short sleeved t-shirt for sleep, Seoho noticed them. They weren’t dark or noticeable, and they seemed old enough that he couldn’t tell if certain parts were just the coloration of his skin or part of the scarring. 

He saw them climbing up his left arm, though, from wrist to shoulder, and probably even higher than that. Seoho wouldn’t be surprised if they traveled across his abdomen, too.

Geonhak merely hummed, confused for a moment, before glancing down at his arm, as if he forgot they were there. “Oh,” he answered, twisting his wrist to examine them himself. “I got them when I was a kid.”

At the time, Seoho was new enough to any sort of relationship that went beyond hatred that he felt like he should probably just nod and move on.

But Seoho hesitated for a moment, eyes tracing over the scars again. He knew that there were parts of himself that he’d rather not explain, but he was seated on his bed in his pajamas as Geonhak stood, eyebrow lifting, and Seoho took it as an invitation.

“From your powers?” he questioned lightly. “Like, before you got control?”

Geonhak shook his head, making Seoho frown. “It was before my powers manifested,” he said, holding the arm out and twisting it, showing Seoho how it was more noticeable at the back than the front. “I was eight, and there was an attack on my village.” 

Seoho flinched, fingers curling into fists.

Geonhak didn’t look at him, though, simply looking at his scars. “It was already dark out when the alarm went out, but when my dad checked outside… I didn’t know, then, what he’d seen, but he started panicking.”

Seoho almost snapped for him to shut up.

He didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s blurry, but I remember my parents fighting for a minute, and then my mom pushed me into a closet,” he went on, voice too calm and collected. “There was a trap door in there, and a passage that led away from the village, but…” His arm dropped. “I didn’t use it immediately. There had never been an attack that warranted it. We usually evacuated with everyone else.”

He told it like a story, detached from it, like it had happened to someone else.

“I tried to get out, but they’d locked me in. I heard glass breaking and my mom screaming… It’s all sort of fuzzy.” He finally looked at Seoho.

There was no hatred in his eyes, even now.

There wasn’t even pain there.

“I remember something breaking down the door, though, and a lot of fire…” He paused. “It was the first time I’d ever seen Dark Elves.”

_Dark Elves._

Seoho’s nails dug crescents into his own skin, teeth grinding together as he stared up at Geonhak.

“It dragged me out of the closet. Lots of hellfire, and the only reason this-“ He gestured to the scars on his arm- “didn’t actually end up killing me was because I managed to kick and scream hard enough to get away.” He shook out his arm, like there was a sleeve to shake down over them. “I got back to the trapdoor and through the passage…”

Seoho dropped his eyes, staring at the ground as his stomach rolled.

“It came out on a hill… and I saw my village already burned to the ground.” He shrugged, as if it couldn’t be helped. “No one was prepared for Dark Elves to show up… and no one stood a chance against the numbers that suddenly appeared.”

Seoho didn’t bother asking what happened afterwards, knowing it was already history.

Geonhak likely ran until he found help, got put in the same system everyone who suffered familial losses from the attacks went into, and came out the other end to join the fight.

Seoho understood, now, the desire to stop others from ending up like he had.

Young, helpless, burned, and homeless. Scarred, scared, orphaned, and angry.

Seoho was trying not to throw up.

“And you still… you still fucking thought it was a good idea to team up with a fucking demonic?” he demanded, voice harsh but weak with the urge to be sick.

“Should that change my answer?” Geonhak asked quietly.

“ _Yes,”_ Seoho snapped, glaring up at him, accusing and nauseous. “Is that the whole point of your plan?” he demanded. “Team up with me, and stab me in the back as some sort of revenge-“

“Revenge against what?” Geonhak broke in, frowning ever so slightly- revealing his knowledge of the answer, but he wanted to play some sort of game Seoho wasn’t in the mood for.

“Don’t fucking play dumb,” he snapped, a threat lingering there-

“My goal hasn’t changed from the moment it was created,” Geonhak said firmly, though his voice never raised or hardened. “The only thing I care about is stopping more people from losing everything like I did.”

“Demonics are the reason you lost it!” Seoho accused, not sure how the hell Geonhak didn’t see the issue here. “ _This_ -“ He held up a hand that burst into hell flame- “is the same shit that gave you _that_!” He pointed sharply at the burns across his arm.

But Geonhak stared at him for a long, long moment… and then shrugged.

“I need two things to make my goal a reality,” he said briskly. “Someone strong, and someone not only interested in ranking. Why would I pick someone else when you pass both of those categories leagues better than anyone else? Why would I settle halfway just to avoid demonics?” 

Seoho didn’t even know what words to try and use, mouth open but soundless as he stared at this fucking insane person-

“My goal isn’t to wipe out everything and everyone related to dark creatures and demonics,” he said flatly, rolling his eyes. “I just want to protect people.”

Seoho still couldn’t say a word, stomach rolling with something too close to guilt.

“I don’t care that you’re a demonic,” Geonhak told him, expression twisted into confusion at why Seoho would think he did. “You’re strong enough to actually help me reach that goal, and you’re a good enough person that you won’t impede that goal. What else am I supposed to care about?”

There were people here who were completely untouched by demonics and dark creatures, aside from their decision to fight them. Those same people sneered and spit and accused and threatened him for existing.

Why the hell would _Geonhak_ \- someone who had lost _everything_ to hell creatures, to half of what Seoho _was_ \- be the one person on this stupid fucking earth who didn’t care what Seoho was?

“Do you know why I sat next to you?”

Seoho glanced up, Geonhak looking straight at him with a fearlessness that Seoho was unaccustomed to, but had come to attribute to Geonhak.

“Your emotions were definitely quieter than most,” he assured him, voice softened around the edge. “But… you also had different emotions than anyone else I’ve seen.”

Seoho really didn’t want a speech on what made him different, at the moment.

But Geonhak didn’t deliver a speech. He merely continued, “Sometimes, emotions are easier to see as colors than they are as words.” His lips thinned slightly. “And I hadn’t never quite seen… the exact type of sad that you were.”

Seoho’s eyes sharpened, his lips parting to snap… something.

He didn’t know what he had to say. But there was something in his chest beginning to threaten to burst.

But Geonhak kept going. “I didn’t understand it… until I saw your hell flame. It was the exact same color.”

A flash of confusion burned across Seoho’s face, blind siding him for a moment as he tried to figure out what the hell that was supposed to imply-

“I don’t know what exactly it means,” Geonhak admitted quietly, shrugging as he half-turned away. “But… there are reasons that I’ve done everything in my life, Seoho, even if I don’t necessarily understand the why. So don’t ever think something I’ve done… was for anything less than what I said it was for.”

He was _sad._

He was a _special_ sad, is that it?

There wasn’t bitterness or anger in his blood, but there was a feeling of… of being looked at too intently, of someone standing too close, of someone looking into a place that he didn’t give them permission to examine-

But none of that was strong enough to break into words or glares…

He just stared, a little stunned, a little numb at the statements.

Geonhak… was the craziest person Seoho had ever known.

But Seoho was apparently silent long enough that Geonhak decided that was all there was to say, turning away and pulling down his blankets to continue getting ready for bed.

It wasn’t until he was turning off the lights that Geonhak spoke to him again. “Do you feel guilty about it?” he murmured. “My village burning?”

Seoho’s eyes snapped up from where they had kept stared blankly at the ground, finding Geonhak with one hand on the light switch, but his eyes focused on Seoho, quiet and questioning.

“I didn’t do any of it,” Seoho said quickly, almost defensively. “And I haven’t done anything with demonics aside from my powers, I-“ He stopped, teeth gritted together. “I don’t feel guilty, but I think you’re fucking insane for picking me out of every person here- regardless of what fucking color my emotions were.”

He tried not to grit his teeth at the thought of Geonhak seeing that “ _sadness._ ”

Geonhak was quiet, digesting that statement, before nodding slowly.

“Noted,” he said lightly, flicking off the switch, casting them in darkness. “But that’s my decision, isn’t it?” he asked, voice sounding closer to his bed that creaked as he sat down. “I offered to partner up, you said yes. That’s all there is to it.”

No, that was not all there was to it.

Geonhak should hate him. Geonhak was someone who _actually_ had reason to hate Seoho.

But Geonhak fell asleep first, while Seoho was still sitting there, a loud snoring filling the room as if he didn’t care that he was sleeping in the same room as something that was part of the reason he was alone in the world.

Geonhak was fucking insane.

Seoho learned, over months and years… that being insane was sort of the best part of Geonhak.

~~~~~~~~

_“Did you hear?”_

Seoho swallowed his food too quickly, the bite getting stuck in his throat painfully as it was slowly forced down.

 _“Geonhak’s gone off the map,”_ a table whispered.

He saw Youngjo look up from his food, looking over at the people much too obviously, but at the second whisper, Seoho stopped caring about choking, also looking over way too obviously, the rest of their team stiffening.

Off… the map…

_“He just disappeared.”_

_“My cousin is in the Busan agency, and one day they were getting reports about him taking care of some Hell Imps and werewolves- you know how bad their problem is in the South-“_

_“And then poof! He just disappeared.”_

_“No one’s heard from him in weeks now. My cousin says it was probably the werewolves.”_

_“Well, if you’re dumb enough to take on stuff like this alone- without a team, much less a partner-“_

_“You’re sort of asking for it.”_

_“Not that his original partner was really much better.”_

_“He’d probably end up this way anyway, regardless of if he’d stuck around the demonic or not.”_

Seoho stood. He vaguely heard the screech of his chair against the floor.

He was aware of his team’s eyes snapping to him, open distress and concern in their eyes.

Youngjo stood as well, a hand half-extended. “Seoho-“

It wasn’t until he was standing, staring at his tray, that the words fully processed. It wasn’t the comments about himself, it wasn’t the snickers about how he’d probably have ended with Geonhak in the same position-

It was that he finally realized that they were implying that Geonhak was dead.

Seoho walked from the cafeteria, suddenly feeling like the piece of food was still choking him. He heard Keonhee call his name, heard Hwanwoong call for him to wait-

They were saying Geonhak was dead.

That was impossible.

They were just rumors. Geonhak was freelance, he had no one he was required to report to- That disappearance off the map was just as likely to be him moving on, moving to the next town or hub of hell activity.

Silence did not mean he was dead.

It had only been six months since he left, there was no possible way Geonhak would ever die that quickly. It was just people jumping to conclusions, looking for drama, over exaggerating to make it a fun story.

In a few weeks, maybe even a few days, Geonhak would pop back up and people would probably be annoyed that he hadn’t actually died, probably talk more shit, probably openly wish that the hell creatures had just finished him off…

But he would be alive.

Seoho shook his head to clear it of the thought that he wouldn’t be.

It was impossible for Geonhak to be dead.

Seoho still sat in their room, not responding when Hwanwoong poked his head in, asking if he was alright, inviting him to go get some ice cream.

He waved, letting them know he was okay, and he was left alone.

The only mantra that echoed in his head, rather than the other table’s gossip, was his own.

_He is not dead, He is not dead._

_He cannot be dead, He cannot be dead-_

_You had better not fucking be dead._


	2. I Will Burn the World For Us, For You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, lovelies!!! I’m so sorry this took so long, but work is killing me lol~  
> I hope it’s worth it though! I’m having such a blast with this- thank you so much to everyone who loved the first chapter!! Please enjoy this one too! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading!! Please let me know what you think of it!!   
> -SS

Seoho managed to live through six months of Geonhak’s radio silence.

For six months, he successfully kept his belief that Geonhak was alive and simply too stupid to let anyone know it.

For six months, he held out against the urge to drop everything and go kick his ass for even making Seoho worry. (He wasn’t worried, he was pissed, he kept telling himself.)

For six months… Seoho’s life continued on infuriatingly.

No one ever said it was peaceful.

He kept waiting, those first few weeks, for people to bring up his newest location, for them to bemoan the fact he hadn’t actually died, for gossip to explode at his sudden reappearance…

Those new rumors never came.

Seoho only heard two things: Geonhak was dead or he was too scared to show his face again.

He wanted to spit on those people who whispered it.

By month two, however, of nothing but whispers and half-heard gossip…. he broke and started asking around- glares, sneers, and curses be damned.

He wanted answers. Real ones. Not whispers between hands.

He was met with either stiff, disgusted silence or a fearful confession that they hadn’t heard anything.

The others joined in his inquiries, unprompted, when their own fears began to build- asking around in the places that Seoho couldn’t, but receiving the same responses.

No one had heard anything about Kim Geonhak since the last news that he’d gone off the map in the South.

And maybe to anyone else, that would have been the signal to begin accepting the reality that maybe… maybe the first round of gossip had been correct. Maybe Geonhak was dead.

But not Seoho.

Seoho didn’t accept shit.

Mainly because he resolutely refused to let hell creatures be the reason Geonhak was dead. He refused to acknowledge that half of himself… might have been the cause of that.

He would not have a part in Geonhak’s death. 

He couldn’t.

Two months turned to four, and Seoho hated how unchanged their lives were: team bonding, training, sending out on missions to fight hell creatures that had broke through… And stupidly, Seoho found himself scanning crowds and throngs of battle, almost waiting for Geonhak to suddenly show up, despite having never seen him once since he left.

Sometimes… it almost felt like he hadn’t left.

When Seoho saw an innocent fall to the ground, Imps swarming like piranhas, he flinched, rushing forward as his stomach twisted sickeningly, as if anyone hurt in his presence was Geonhak silently shaking his head.

It wasn’t fear of reprimand that made him move but…

Protecting people was what he and Geonhak did.

When Geonhak came back (and he _would_ come back), Seoho wasn’t going to give him a reason to give Seoho shit for slacking.

At month five, the Heads began putting pressure on Youngjo once more to prompt Seoho into putting up with another partner and letting Hwanwoong and Keonhee return to their partnership. Seoho almost told him to go along with it, to let Hwanwoong and Keonhee stop babysitting him, to just put up with some douche the same way he always had.

But the thought of it… of being forced back into a partnership that was worse than operating alone…

Leaving was preferable to that, even if leaving was unthinkable, knowing that his entire life was here with these people.

But Seoho was tired of being the reason Youngjo got pressure from the higher ups, the reason their team had to work twice as hard to make up for the unbalance of having three partners, the reason people continued to look at them even more now that Geonhak was gone and Seoho appeared like a liable target again…

Seoho was tired of a lot of shit.

And it’d only gotten harder, gotten worse, gotten heavier after Geonhak left.

You never really realized how much you shared a burden until you were suddenly carrying it alone.

It all worked out, though, because Youngjo stopped Seoho before he could agree with the Heads, firmly assuring him that he wasn’t even going to consider asking Seoho to put up with someone.

“And not that… not that there’s anything to it,” he said, leaning against the doorframe of the living area, wings twitching agitatedly, “but it just seems… wrong to do it right now, you know?”

Geonhak was not dead. They were not in mourning.

But they were in a weird middle space of not knowing anything and being afraid of everything.

Seoho hadn’t felt like the ground was solid beneath him in almost a year.

“I’ll put up with some asshole if it means the Heads get off your ass,” Seoho said, the words tasting like dust- not a lie, but undesirable. “Besides, I’ve already been hanging onto Hwanwoong and Keonhee for too long-“

“You say that like it’s a bother,” Hwanwoong said, eyes narrowed disapprovingly.

Seoho chuckled, tilting his head back in the sofa they were scattered around. “I know you guys don’t care, but you know it’s different.”

It was different, having that third party in your space- the same way it was different to have a teammate instead of a partner at your side.

Seoho trusted every person here with his life and more… but they were not his partner.

The silence that followed was heavy, but not suffocating.

“We could take turns,” Dongju suggested, voice lilting with amusement, though Seoho could see the concerned set of his brows that never really went away ever since Geonhak went MIA. “Pass you between our partners like… like an every-other-weekend household.” 

Seoho chuckled, the image overtaking the depressing thoughts that threatened to come along with it.

Even if he couldn’t necessarily settle in these partnerships… this was undoubtedly where he belonged.

The brief moment of silence was enough to make the following statement pierce his chest like a knife.

“You know… if you wanted to leave… we wouldn’t stop you.”

Seoho fell completely still, something like horror and fear slamming into his stomach hard enough for him to sit up, staring at Youngjo blankly, tongue heavy and numb and eyes already burning at the implication.

Youngjo stared at him… like his heart was slowly breaking for him.

“If you wanted to go on your own, if you wanted to… to go look for him-“

“I wouldn’t leave,” Seoho said, sharp and fierce… and only a _little_ scared. “I wouldn’t just run out like that-“

“You wouldn’t be running out,” Keonhee said calmly, as if they had already discussed this, even though Seoho knew that it was spur of the moment. “You… We’re all worried about him-“

“I can’t just go running after him every time he goes missing,” Seoho said, huffing and rolling his eyes, despite the wrenching in his chest. “He’s a big kid, he can take care of himself. He made his choice, and I’m not going to hunt him down every time he disappears off the map.”

Despite the fact that Seoho’s entire body was _screaming_ for him to.

That lingering sense of _wrong_ , of _move_ , of _run_ was rushing through his veins, the same as it had the moment Geonhak left, and that had increased a hundredfold since the rumors that he was dead-

He swallowed it down the same as he did every day.

“No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I don’t need to go searching for him.”

Geonhak would either show up at some point… or Seoho would rather live the rest of his life believing he would pop up again.

The others were solemnly silent, a quiet sigh reaching across them gently, settling like dust over antiqued furniture. Seoho nearly choked on the concern, the worry, the genuineness with which they offered for him to go look for Geonhak…

They could go as a team, if they could realistically label it as a rescue mission, but with so little information and with Geonhak working on his own, it would be damn near impossible to get enough of a case.

Seoho could ask for leave, and the Heads would probably grant it with pleasure if it meant getting rid of him for a while, but… Seoho couldn’t risk what he might find out.

Geonhak was not dead.

He couldn’t be.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho’s eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness of the alley they crept down, able to feel Geonhak’s presence at his side, even without sight to tell him.

That presence had become a near constant in his life, like a light flashing in the corner of his eye, silently signaling that it was there. Seoho had stopped paying attention to it, taking it as the constant that it was.

Together, they crept down the alley, Seoho wrinkling his nose as the scent of burning and rotting flesh reached their noses. The burning was from the buildings and street set aflame. The rotting was from the hell creatures running amok. 

Geonhak signaled him to a halt at the mouth of the alley, freezing before the carnage.

They were in a large city square, and it was chaos. Hell hounds and death stallions ran back and forth, trampling screaming civilians, setting fires wherever their feet touched.

“Wait for my signal,” he murmured, hand held up and eyes scanning the chaos for the moment they were needed most. 

Seoho held his breath, watching the scattering of powered individuals corral and destroy hell creatures in hoards as they roamed, not sure exactly what moment they were waiting for, until he saw a woman sprinting from a building, a hell hound on her heels.

Geonhak stiffened beside him, straightening slightly where he had been crouched, a hand landing on Seoho’s shoulder to steady himself.

Seoho already had himself braced, his left hand opening his palm upwards with a piercing blue glow washing over them in the dark alley, braced for Geonhak’s signal.

The lady stumbled, the asphalt cracked and broken from the creatures, and slid to the ground. 

Seoho didn’t think or receive any real signal, but he was suddenly standing, throwing the blue energy in his hand forward as Geonhak sprinted forward silently.

An icy blue disc, three feet in diameter, hovered a foot off the ground.

Geonhak’s boots slammed against the glowing platform of hell flame energy, crouching at the exact moment Seoho stood, thrusting a hand skywards, shooting Geonhak and the shield upwards.

Distance and speed had always been their goal during training.

Even the hell hound’s bounding leaps that could shadow cars didn’t reach the woman before Geonhak did, hitting the ground rolling- absorbing the shock and transferring it into momentum as he sprung to his feet directly between the woman and the hell hound, eyes blazing.

The hound came to a halt, startled by the sudden presence. 

Seoho raced forward, able to make out the woman crying behind Geonhak, curled around herself and head ducked down. Seoho didn’t know if her immobility was fear or an injury, but he didn’t have time to contemplate it, even as he watched Geonhak’s subtle flinch- no doubt from the hellish emotions being thrown around by the crowds.

The hound got over its shock and growled- low enough to make the ground shake. 

And when it lunged, Geonhak didn’t hesitate, that same swift decisiveness that Seoho hadn’t seen in any of his partners before.

Seoho was still a distance away when Geonhak thrust his hands forward, like preparing to brace himself, the palms of his hands bursting into red fire that turned white, exploding from a small orb into a fireball large enough to completely swallow the hound. 

Even Seoho felt the heat wave slam into him, but he had experienced it enough to simply push through it, thrusting a hand out and watch an icy blue shield swallow the woman, protecting her both from the heat and the debris flying as collateral.

The burning hound’s death throes were loud enough to break glass, neither pleasant nor ignorable.

It screeched and howled, growling and whimpering as it thrashed to escape a fire it couldn’t writhe out of- rolling across the concrete, and Geonhak kept directing it away from the woman.

Seoho finally crouched to the ground behind Geonhak, dropping the shield around the woman as he held a hand down to her swiftly, the woman staring at him with wide eyes- torn between horror and gratefulness.

Fear began to overtake as she realized what exactly was glowing in Seoho’s hands, but he simply grabbed her hand, beginning to pull.

“Let’s go!” he ordered, only concerned for a moment that she might be too injured to move, but with barely a tug, she scrambled to her feet, apparently more afraid of remaining than of Seoho.

She stumbled for only a moment and sprinted across the square.

Geonhak’s sphere of flame finally died down, both of them watching as the hound fell to the ground, silent and charred. 

Seoho turned quickly, ensuring that the woman had made it out of the throes of battle, prepared to follow her-

A death stallion flew passed Seoho, its flank slamming into his shoulder and sending him to the ground, hands scraping against the brick sidewalk-

“ _Geonhak_!”

Blindly, he thrust a hand out, a spindle of hell flame shooting out desperately to wrap around the stallion’s hind ankle- too thin to hold it back, but enough to make it stumble-

That moment’s hesitation was all Geonhak needed to whip around, eyes wide at the sudden yell, but snapping a green-flamed whip that suddenly appeared in his grip, sending the stallion to the ground with screeching cries of pain.

Seoho cursed under his breath, rising to his elbows and looking back, seeing the woman being herded away from someone with skin made of steel, shaken but protected.

With that comfort, he turned his eyes across the square where the battles, though lessening, was still raging.

No one exactly had the luxury to be only fighting one creature. Keonhee was pinning two hell hounds with vines as Hwanwoong opened portals around him, giving a portal to send more vines through across the square, dragging creatures away from buildings- Hwanwoong splitting his attention to focus on the battle at large, looking for more targets. 

Youngjo was throwing stone and building chunks at the creatures with alarmingly strength and precision, splitting his attention between that and swooping down carry people to safety Dongju smothered as many creatures as he could in shadows that swallowed them whole. 

A brief flash of relief rushed through him at the confirmation that the rest of them were still alright as he got to his knees.

Geonhak’s hand was offered down before he’d gotten halfway, taking it firmly and letting himself be pulled up, hands scraped as he dusted them off, both of them taking a moment to observe, trying to discern where they were needed.

“You know, you could always stop the creature, instead of just yelling a warning,” Geonhak muttered, the smirk audible in his voice, so Seoho just smacked his chest firmly without looking, scanning the tops of the buildings, taking satisfaction at the breathless wheeze from Geonhak.

“I’m sure I heard more Imps earlier,” Seoho said, eyes narrowed against the dirt smeared around them, feeling Geonhak step beside him. “I don’t know where they went…”

Geonhak made a hum of understanding, stiff. “Let’s circle around the backsides. They might be hiding-“

Seoho felt a shudder travel up his spine so violently, he thought he might sick, exhaling sharply and clutching his stomach sickeningly.

Geonhak turned to him, concern radiating as a hand landed on his shoulder to steady him-

Seoho never found out what he planned to do before the ground beneath them exploded.

They were both only saved by Seoho’s entire body feeling like he was tipping over a cliff’s edge, his adrenaline surging as he instinctively shoved his hands at the ground, hell energy surrounding them like plunging into a lake, submerging suffocatingly.

There was a brief moment filled with the sting of dirt, rocks, and stone being thrown in every direction before the energy surrounded them, and the two of them flew across the ground, barely protected by the hasty shield he’d thrown up.

Their bodies slammed together unceremoniously, knocking into each other until Seoho grabbed Geonhak to keep them from braining each other, heads ducked and fingers gripping tightly- 

By the time they slid to a stop, remaining inside the thin shield for a moment to catch their breath and ensure nothing was broken…

Seoho released a breath, his muscles feeling tensed and aching, like the aftermath of a taser lingering.

He lifted his head slowly, finding Geonhak breathing heavily but shifting into a sitting position as Seoho stared through the paper-thin blue wall between them and the explosion.

There was a growing hum in the air, making his hair stand on end as he bit his tongue, making his skin crawl, fingers going to clench into a fist before realizing he was still holding onto Geonhak’s wrist.

Geonhak was bleeding slightly from a scratch at his hairline, but seemed uninjured besides that… and Seoho was slightly ashamed to think he only glanced over the injury before staring at the hole that was still smoking in the center of the square, only meters in front of them.

Seoho stared, feeling like he’d gone slightly numb, the sensation taking him by surprise, making him frown.

The shield dropped around them, making him wince as small wounds made themselves known, but Seoho couldn’t feel concerned, watching the thick smoke billow from the crater.

He hadn’t realized anyone else was close, but he saw- from the corner of his eye- Keonhee dropped his vines that had been shielding himself and Hwanwoong, and Youngjo hovering with one wing wrapped around himself, dropping it quickly with a pallor to his skin.

Seoho felt like he couldn’t breathe, the feeling bringing about a sense of panic, unsure what was causing it- tight discomfort squeezing his chest.

It wasn’t until he took a deep breath, holding it to calm the panic, that he realized he was shaking.

No.

Not him. Geonhak.

Seoho’s head turned quickly, expecting to find something, but there was nothing. And while Geonhak’s wrist was most definitely trembling within Seoho’s hand, his eyes gave no indication that he felt anything other than the usual determination that fueled him.

Seoho turned away, though, frowning and immobile, and saw the smoke hissing from the hole finally clear.

He wanted to look back at Geonhak, to ask what the hell was wrong, but he was too busy staring at the blue fiery symbol floating at the edge of the crater, hovering over the ten foot hole ripped in the ground. 

Seoho’s stomach dropped, a fresh wave of foreign panic clawing at his heart unexpectedly, making him tighten his grip on Geonhak’s wrist, probably too tight…

Three lines, connected by a forth at the bottom, slashed through a circle.

Everyone knew what that symbol meant. What it represented. What it meant for everyone if it was ever seen. 

Dark elves. 

The first one crawled from the crater, icy hellfire pouring off of it like heat waves, thin slits of eyes tearing across the clearing before it released the most skin-crawling shriek into the sky.

Not anger or pain.

A summoning call.

Seoho’s heart lurched, a kind of pain racing through it like he hadn’t felt since he was a child, realizing what he was and what people saw him as-

Geonhak’s hand suddenly closed back around Seoho’s hand, nail digging into his skin so sharply, it jarred Seoho out of the stunned fear that had immobilized him for a moment, his senses slamming back into place, even as he still felt his heart pounding too fast.

Seoho sucked in a breath around the foreign panic, turning to Geonhak, prepared to yell for them to move-

But Geonhak’s eyes were wide, completely blank, a million miles away, as if staring at something in a far, far distance.

Seoho’s heart was painfully high in his throat, his blood roaring so loudly in his ears, it almost drowned out the dark elf that was still screaming, still crying, still shrieking-

“ _Geonhak_ ,” he snapped, shifting forward to try standing, despite the unsteadiness in his limbs- the name breaking through like a hammer shattering through ice. “We have to-“

Hell broke loose. 

From the crater, dark elves began to claw their way out. As tall as humans, with milky blue skin stretched tight across bone, claw-like hands and nails, ears like needles, noses like hooks, eyes like frigid death…

His heart threatened to burst with cold fear, taking him by surprise, knocking the wind from him for a moment.

Geonhak’s hand twitched, clenching Seoho’s tighter, like trying to stay grounded-

It was with the force of a freight train slamming into his chest that Seoho realized the fear in his chest was not his own.

It was Geonhak’s. 

At least a dozen dark elves poured out, crawling from the crater like ants from a destroyed hill.

The two of them were still standing immobile, Seoho’s limbs suddenly feeling too heavy, a panicked fog stuffed into his head that wasn’t his own-

“Everyone, with your partners!” someone’s voice broke through the terror, calling from the air as they levitated above the battle, voice hard as stone. “Remain together! Destroy all creatures!” 

The words cleared the fog in his brain, slightly.

The dark elf that began charging towards the two of them shoved enough adrenaline through his weak limbs to force them to work.

“Geonhak, _move_!” Seoho snapped, pulling him to his feet, knees nearly buckling.

When Geonhak stumbled, nearly a dead weight behind Seoho, he felt a panic that was finally his own.

When he glanced back, Geonhak was still staring at the creatures, lips parted like he had something to say that wouldn’t come-

“Let’s go,” Seoho hissed, dragging Geonhak who wasn’t allowing them to run very quickly, stumbling and nearly dragging both of them to the ground-

He glanced back, saw dark elves running every direction, their claws slicing through buildings and streets, light poles and signs. Somehow, they chose to ignore them, occupied with creating chaos as Seoho tried to drag Geonhak away from the throes of battle.

The next time Geonhak stumbled, Seoho practically yanked his arm off, throwing back a furious glare.

“ _Eyes forward_!”

Geonhak’s eyes snapped to the front, staring at Seoho as if he’d just struck him, but Seoho felt a furious drop in the fear clawing at his chest, finally allowing him to take a breath as it shrank to a manageable level. 

With a final glance to ensure they weren’t being followed, Seoho shoved them both into an alley, his chest unlocking fully, a rush of oxygen clearing that fog from his head.

“Dark elves…” Geonhak muttered, staring out of the alley, no longer in blank fear, but a hardened darkness. It looked fragile, though, like it wouldn’t take much to make it shatter.

Seoho’s lips thinned, torn between telling Geonhak to get a grip and… not doing that.

Dark elves were far from common to find above ground.

They were the rulers and keepers of the Hellscape. That was where their power was greatest, and if they did come above ground… there was a reason. Sometimes that reason was just simple chaos, and sometimes it was… to send a message.

The last time Geonhak had seen a dark elf would have likely been while he was running from his burning village.

He struggled for a moment, lost on what to do.

They needed to go back to the fight, to aid in protecting the last people, but…

Seoho turned, glancing out of the mouth of the alley.

He could see dark elves clawing through houses, destroying everything, searching for humans, the powered individuals splitting their forces between ensuring no one was left behind and seizing what dark elves they could- fighting against waves of hellfire that burned indiscriminately, pouring over concrete and brick, burning it like dry kindling.

No one knew what dark elves did with the humans they took. They killed most of them, but occasionally they would grab them, return to the Hellscape with them. People theorized that they were slaves. Some said it was for sport, to hunt later.

No one knew. And no one wanted to find out. 

“Fucking shit,” he hissed, scanning the carnage, trying to decide if he should just tell Geonhak to stay here if he needed to… but everything in him screamed not to leave him alone.

He wet his lips, chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Seoho,” he heard Geonhak mutter, a little hoarse, but trying to sound put together. “I’m not-“

A scream sounded- muffled and high, not piercing, but desperate and nearby.

And young.

Seoho rushed out of the valley, feeling Geonhak directly behind him, fear and hesitation forgotten for the moment.

In the crashing sounds of the fight, it took a moment for him to orient himself towards the sound, but he turned alongside the building they had been hiding beside, racing across the front of it, Geonhak keeping pace and pulling ahead as soon as they reached the other side.

In the open space on the opposite side of the brick building, there was a child curled against the wall, a trash can lid held in front of itself like it might shield it from the dark elf stalking forward, a sound like laughter cackling from its throat.

Seoho had barely taken a breath before a whip of white, searing flame wrapped around the elf’s neck.

Seoho’s heart skipped as he stared, everything freezing for a moment as the elf shrieked, head whipping to hiss at them-

The whip was snapped back with such force and precision, Seoho heard some bone in the elf snap, a sickening sound as it was dragged away from the child, dragging across the ground like a rough edge against sandpaper.

When Seoho risked a brief glance at Geonhak, any trace of fear was wiped clear, leaving only cold, fiery stone staring down the creature that struggled, clawing at the whip around its neck.

Seoho rushed forward, scooping up the child that was still yelling and crying, resisting Seoho for a moment before looking up and finding a human, instead of a monster. He stopped yelling, but continued crying harder, wrapping arms around Seoho’s neck and burying his face there, trembling with scrapes on his elbow and knees.

Seoho placed a hand behind the kid’s head, holding its face away from the sight of Geonhak wrapping the dark elf in flames that burned hot enough that Seoho had to turn away for fear of the child getting burned, the heat blasting across his back painlessly, though.

When the turned back, there was nothing but ash.

He almost quipped something about that being therapeutic for Geonhak, but the blank, stony expression he wore as he stared at the ash, the whip still held in his hand that was shaking slightly….

Instead, Seoho was quiet, a discomfort in his chest as he approached.

“Here,” he said, passing the child over- the movement jarring Geonhak back to the present as he took the kid, holding him more securely than Seoho did.

Geonhak was always better at getting the younger victims to calm down anyway.

Neither of them spoke as they ran around the outside of the square, keeping as far away from the fight as they could with the innocent in Geonhak’s arm, Seoho keeping a bundle of hellfire in his palm defensively.

They made it the entire way without running into trouble until they turned down the alley that would lead to the rendezvous point for civilians.

Seoho whipped around the corner, coming face to face with a dark elf crouched in the shadows, his fingertips glowing blue and a half completed symbol glowing in the ground.

He was calling for more.

Their saving grace was that the elf instantly become more concerned with the two of them than completing the summoning symbol.

It lunged at Seoho almost before Seoho had realized what the dark figure was, but it was long enough for him to be ready, sliding between the dark elf and the child in Geonhak’s arm, his hand already thrusting out, sharp and stiff. 

He caught the wretched creature by the neck, its feet scraping against the ground as it tried to claw at Seoho’s hand crushing its neck, but the blue energy formed a shield against his skin.

The cold anger in his eyes flickered when the elf began laughing, stopping his wriggling to instead clutch both hands around Seoho’s wrists.

Seoho’s expression twitched, flickering across the disgusting features, looking for anything to tell it had been a trap or that he had some sort of weapon-

“So-“ the creature croaked, sounding like speaking through mucus and sand burn. “T-the hell spawn a-actually exists,” he managed around Seoho’s fingers choking him.

Seoho couldn’t stop the unguarded expression that took over his face, as if he’d just been slapped. He had enough mind not to loosen his grip, only tightening it and making the dark elf flinch, choking, but he kept laughing.

It was _laughing._

Seoho suddenly felt… very dirty.

Demoniac were not common.

Seoho was pretty sure there was only one other in the entire country, and he was pretty sure she was in isolation.

As far as he was aware, there were never more than a couple of demonics every generation. The fact that the elf would act like Seoho was something he had heard about before...

The claws on his wrists tightened, trying to get him to loosen up. “Y-You’re dis-disgustingly weaker th-than they say… Heh.” There was amusement written through the discomfort.

Seoho should have flooded the creature with enough hellfire to turn it to ash already.

But he just stared, suddenly feeling as if anything he’d ever used to shield himself was stripped away. He didn’t know why he suddenly felt… exposed, but it made his hand at his side shake.

When the elf’s eyes flickered behind him, he stiffened. “A-And the hell s-spawn’s dog.”

Seoho couldn’t help but let his head snap back, staring at Geonhak who stared with emotions Seoho was too disoriented to name aside from horror and confusion.

The elf chuckled. “Or m-master,” he croaked, shaking with laughter. “Depending on w-who you ask…”

Why…

Why was it saying this?

What purpose could it possibly-

Why did it know Seoho, much less _Geonhak_?

He turned back, staring at the elf who was much more occupied with laughing to itself than being strangled. He felt like… like he was the one being laughed at. Like this creature knew something he didn’t…

“What’s so funny about it?” he demanded, grateful when his voice didn’t shake, though his mind was anything but steady.

Claws tried to dig into his wrists, but he remained protected, even if the elf’s legs began to kick slightly. He never stopped laughing, creaky and broken.

“It’s h-hilarious,” he choked out. “A h-hell spawn c-creating such a huge fuss in the Hellscape.” He grinned sickeningly. “M-Most of you just learn to sit down and shut up,” he crackled, voice like old paper. “But you… you and your dog-“

He winced, Seoho’s hand twitching at the name.

The world had become a painful background static.

His voice came through weaker, struggling with breath. “Y-Your dog,” he hissed breathlessly. “You’re b-both sticking y-your noses where they both b-belong-“

His legs kicked, apparently the strangulation thing becoming more of a prominent issue in the elf’s mind.

He still laughed, turning to a wheeze as his grip on Seoho began to weaken.

“It’s t-the funniest story in cen-centuries,” he wheezed. “The h-hell spawn who turned his back on his kind-“ Icy eyes bored into Seoho before flickering behind him in amusement. “And t-the human who b-betrayed humanity by picking him up.”

Seoho stared, eyes flickering across the elf’s face, his chest tight and shaking, his legs suddenly seeming as if he was standing on gravel, slipping out from under him-

“Seoho,” Geonhak’s voice muttered from behind him, sharp enough that he could either be trying to get Seoho to do something or reminding him that they had an innocent to get to safety.

Both intentions were enough for Seoho to grit his teeth, hellfire bursting full force from his palm around the elf’s throat.

The shrieking stopped before the creature hit the ground, Seoho turning back to Geonhak.

This time, it was Geonhak looking at Seoho, as if he didn’t know how present he was- afraid to approach and make something worse, but understanding they needed to move.

“Let’s go,” Seoho said, grateful when his voice still didn’t shake.

It didn’t matter, though. Geonhak could absolutely feel the earthquake tearing through Seoho’s chest, rocking the foundations of everything he had built there.

There was nothing particularly threatening or frightening about anything the elf had said… but it was unsettling.

It was unnerving, to know that there were creatures-

No. That the entire Hellscape, possibly… knew, not only about Seoho, but Geonhak as well. That the two of them had a name together, as traitors to their respective races… that there were rumors about their strength, that there were creatures who were eager to test that…

Geonhak didn’t press Seoho about what happened, just as Seoho hadn’t pressed on Geonhak’s initial reaction to the dark elves.

Now wasn’t the time.

Later, it would be, but not now.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho did not dream about Geonhak.

He did, however, awake from dreams with Geonhak at the back of his mind, like he had either been inside the dream or the dream had reminded Seoho of him, in some way.

He never remembered the dreams, but he knew he was reminded of Geonhak for some reason.

When Geonhak came back (and he _would_ be back), Seoho would never live this down, so he had no intention of ever telling him.

When he came back.

Seoho stared at the dark ceiling, waiting for sleep to come back, stretching his hand up and staring at the vague shape of his fingers in the darkness, breathing out slowly as hellfire danced in tiny wisps around his fingertips, casting everything in a light blue glow.

He merely stared numbly at the flames, breathing out and watching the fire turn to energy, more like smoke or water floating around his skin.

_“Isn’t it funny?” Geonhak had asked at lunch one day._

_“What?” Seoho questioned around his rice._

_“We both technically control fire… but our powers are nothing alike,” he observed._

_Seoho merely shrugged, not really caring. “Mine is more than just fire.”_

_Geonhak rolled his eyes, smirking. “I wasn’t trying to dumb down your powers, dumbass.”_

_Seoho didn’t respond because he never responded to stuff like that._

Seoho had never really considered their powers to be anything alike.

Geonhak controlled fire, and Seoho… he had never really considered his own powers to be considered fire. Fire was warm and burning, not ice and energy and everything evil in the world compressed into useable energy.

But, in Geonhak’s absence, a small part of his mind couldn’t help thinking about him every time he saw the blue energy licking at his skin.

It was six months since the rumors had started…

Nearly a year exactly since Geonhak first left.

Seoho clenched a fist, extinguishing the light and flame, sending him back into darkness. He continued to stare at the darkness, grateful that he couldn’t see anything at the moment.

There came a moment in every bout of wishful thinking or purposeful ignorance… There came a moment where you could no longer hold onto it as tightly.

There always came a moment when the illusion began to break apart.

When he was younger, it was the first time someone directly called him a hell spawn.

That careful illusion he had spent 12 years clinging to, that people didn’t actually hate him, he wasn’t actually evil… His mother always told him that while his powers were the same as the dark creatures, he was going to use them for good.

He ignored every sneer, every off handed comment, every shove and screams for him to get away, to get lost… He’d ignored all of it for 12 years, holding onto the illusion that one day people would see that he was good, and they would stop.

He held onto that ignorantly, until the moment he was shoved to the ground, hands scraping on the concrete as another kid with no powers to speak of stood above him.

_Go back where you came from, hell spawn!_

Seoho had heard the word before, but never directed at himself.

He knew what it meant, though.

He’d beaten up the kid so badly, the school told him not to come back. It was the first time he’d ever retaliated to the things people did to him. The subsequent event of rumors spreading even faster that he was unstable, that he was a ticking time bomb, that he’d summoned demons from the Hellscape to attack the boy-

Seoho learned very quickly that fighting back… was not a luxury he had.

Losing that ignorance of wishful thinking was never an easy point to reach. It was like a branding iron, marking a point in time for life.

As Seoho laid in the darkness, staring at his hand that he couldn’t see in the black room, he reached that point for the second time in life, the illusion beginning to crumble around him.

What…

What if he was actually dead?

His hand formed a fist, dropping to his side harshly as he blew out a rough breath, rolling onto his side, facing the wall and shutting his eyes tightly.

_He couldn’t be._

But Seoho knew very well… that it was entirely possible that he was.

Geonhak was too talented, too strong, too smart to ever just be off the map for so long. Six months… There was nothing that could be taking that long.

Seoho had not cried in the entire time since Geonhak’s departure.

And he did not cry now.

But it was the first time in his life that he wished he could bring himself to. It was the first time something hurt bad enough that he wished he could make himself cry in a desperate attempt to rid the pressure breaking his chest.

He wished he could allow himself to break the dam holding it all back.

He wished he could curse Geonhak with every breath for leaving him.

_Twice_.

He wished he could solve the pain lacing through his every breath with anger and hatred towards Geonhak- it would be so easy to let anger overwhelm him.

But he knew that it wouldn’t be Geonhak he would hate.

He told himself again, practically screaming it in his head: Geonhak was not dead.

He told himself he believed it.

Even internally, his voice shook with lies.

~~~~~~~~~

Geonhak sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the ripped knees of his freshly changed jeans.

Seoho sat on the edge of his own bed, staring at Geonhak, his fingertips rubbing gently over the bandages wrapped around his scraped hands that he hadn’t bothered asking Hwanwoong to heal.

The silence had persisted from the time they were transported back to the compound, telling the others they were gonna go rest in their own room, and freshening up after the draining fight.

The dark elf’s words still echoed in the back of his mind.

Seoho’s head was spinning with everything rushing around it, but he was thankful that Geonhak apparently felt the need to break the silence first.

“I… I’m sorry about freezing up,” he muttered, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot, not looking up at Seoho. “Back there. With the-“ He broke off, lips thinning, though his eyes remained sharp and apologetic. “With the dark elves.”

Seoho couldn’t help but chuckle- that issue being the very last on the list of things he felt needed discussing. “It’s not your fault. It’s not like you went comatose on me. You were there when it counted.”

“I wanted to,” Geonhak murmured, fingers curling on his knee into a fist. His brow twitched agitatedly. “If you hadn’t been there, I’m pretty sure I would have… I don’t know-“ 

“But I was there.”

Geonhak glanced up, taken aback by the statement, and even Seoho hadn’t planned on speaking, much less saying something of that degree.

But he didn’t flinch away from the eye contact, simply shrugging. “Why the fuck do we have partners, if not to stop ourselves from regressing from childhood trauma?”

Seoho held his breath, half-expecting the joke to turn sour, but without a pause, Geonhak smirked, shaking his head slowly as he laughed quietly. “You’re an asshole.”

“Yes, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss,” he said, stretching his legs out in front of him, wincing as the slight bruises that made of most of their bodies ached. He took note of his heartbeat- slow and strong, only slightly faster than resting because of the topic of conversation.

When he looked over at Geonhak, he seemed calm, as well.

“When the dark elves appeared,” Seoho began, watching Geonhak remain still. “I felt…” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I felt… a kind of fear that I’ve never felt before. And I certainly… I wasn’t that scared of the elves. But I felt as if I was, and it only faded after we got away.”

He glanced at Geonhak’s fist that tightened until his knuckles were white.

His expression remained as calm and impassive as ever.

“That was you… wasn’t it?” Seoho asked quietly, eyes tracing over the tense lines of his body that only turned tighter. “Those emotions were yours.”

It didn’t take a genius to put together that guess, no matter how unlikely it was.

But Geonhak’s lips tightened, biting the inside of his bottom lip. “Yeah,” he murmured stiffly, like he didn’t exactly want to talk about it. “It’s not… something that happens all that often. But sometimes strong emotions can leak out.”

Seoho frowned slightly, more confused than any sort of discomfort. “You never mentioned it.”

“It hasn’t happened in years,” Geonhak assured him, glancing up and away quickly. “And when it does, it’s usually quick enough for people not to notice. So I don’t usually bring it up… The few people who did find out were always unsettled by it.”

The only reasoning Seoho could think of to find it unsettling would be that another person’s emotions were overtaking your own.

But that wasn’t unsettling to him.

“Was that the first time you had seen the… dark elves?” he murmured, playing with the frays of his shirt. “Since… then?”

Geonhak’s jaw tightened, eyes turning guarded. “Yes.” 

Seoho merely nodded because…. Well, what else could he say? But then he remembered the child crying and how quickly fear had been forgotten. And another piece of the almost-completed puzzle that was Geonhak fell into place.

“You really… can’t let someone get hurt.”

Geonhak glanced up, his dark gaze lightening with confusion.

Seoho picked at his bandaged. “The kid… You ran after him like nothing was wrong. And you… took care of that elf rather swiftly.”

More viciously than usual. With emotions that most definitely had never appeared in Geonhak’s eyes before.

Geonhak didn’t tense again, instead dropping his head like it was something to be shamed for. He knocked his knuckles against his knee roughly.

“Like I said,” he muttered, “if you hadn’t been there… I probably would have just let myself shut down.” His brow twitched, torn between confusion and frustration. “I always knew that I’d run into dark elves sometime or another. And I always thought about all the ways I’d react when I did.”

Geonhak laughed, airy and a little bitter as he shook his head.

It was pure luck that in all his years in agencies, dark elves had never popped up where he had been stationed.

“I didn’t account for feeling like I was fucking eight all over again,” he muttered. “Like I wasn’t someone who had decades of experience fighting things infinitely more powerful than those fuckers.” His lips twisted in distaste. “But no… I don’t want to let anyone… wind up that way.”

Idly, Seoho wondered what _exactly_ went through Geonhak’s head.

Did he see himself in those kids he tried so hard to protect- not only from physical harm, but tucking their heads away so they wouldn’t see the carnage around them? Did he force himself to move, or was it practically instinct, after hearing a cry like ones he might have given?

Seoho knew and understood more about Geonhak than he ever had, but as far as the exact things that went through his mind… it was usually easier to guess.

“And are you okay?” Geonhak questioned quietly, like it was a secret as Seoho glanced up, startled by the acknowledgement. The other just stared at him, brows slightly drawn in concern. “After… what it said?”

Honestly, what had been said was sort of a blur in Seoho’s head.

But he remembered everything.

Creatures knew about them. More than that, they took the two of them as a personal challenge. They were an amusing story, a hilarious juxtaposition. And… when Seoho thought about it… he and Geonhak were everything both worlds never wanted to happen.

A human and a demonic.

Working together. Existing well. _Befriending_ each other. A human defending a demonic, and a demonic fighting alongside a human.

By human standards, they were an abomination. By dark creature standards… they were the funniest sight in centuries, weren’t they?

Historically, demonics kept a low profile, if they didn’t end up defecting back to the Hellscape- which was the worst case scenario that agencies feared. The fact that Seoho was still on the surface only added to the ticking time bomb mentality that one day he would run off to join his “kind.”

But to the Hellscape, the fact that a demonic had lowered themselves to fight beside a human, and the fact that a human would throw aside everything they knew to befriend him…

They were hilarious, weren’t they?

Seoho’s jaw set firmly, eyes staring at Geonhak’s knees, instead of his face. “I… I don’t know much about demonics,” he admitted quietly. “Aside from what I discovered about my powers on my own.”

Geonhak’s boots knocked against each other leisurely, as if this was a perfectly normal conversation. Seoho almost wanted to place a hand on them to stop the movement.

“My mom didn’t talk about everything that happened,” he muttered, laughing quietly. “She explained pretty early what I was and what that meant, but… I’ve never made any sort of contact with or gotten any information about the Hellscape or the dark creatures inside of it. Nothing more than any of us have.”

He frowned in concern, running a hand through his hair slowly.

“The fact that anyone from the Hellscape would have paid special attention to me… much less to you as well…” He wet his lips, brow creasing and fingertips pressing firmly against his skin. “I have no idea why they would have.”

He didn’t _want_ them to look at him.

Human stared at him like he was a monster.

But that dark elf had stared at him as if he were a prize.

“I don’t know how news would have traveled to them,” Geonhak murmured quietly. “But after word got out that a demonic was operating well with a human partner and team… and that the partnership was doing… considerably well… I’m not surprised a few mouths started running.”

“But why does it _matter_?” Seoho pressed, finally looking up, splaying his hands helplessly. “What good does talking about it do? If they wanted to kill us especially, they should have just killed us. If they don’t… then that’s more terrifying than any death they could plan.” 

The silence was heavy and contemplative.

“He said we were sticking our noses where they didn’t belong,” Geonhak said slowly, clearly still working through the words. “What does that imply?”

“All of us are sticking our nose where it doesn’t belong,” Seoho sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “That’s our whole job. All creatures think we go where we don’t belong.”

“But he mentioned us specifically,” Geonhak said firmly, rubbing his stiff neck. “That statement was made in direct relation to us and our partnership.”

Seoho’s nose wrinkled in disgusted, uncomfortable distaste. “’Dog,’” he muttered darkly, eyes hardening. “’Master-‘ Where the hell do they come up with this shit?” he huffed, running another hand through his head, stomach twisting at the implications there.

A follower. Someone being led along.

“Yeah, bold of them to assume you’re the alpha here.”

Seoho threw the closest thing to his hand- his pillow- across the short distance, though it did end up at the speed of a small projectile, forcing Geonhak to lay back to absorb the momentum, chuckling.

He was laughing… and while there wasn’t necessarily anything life-threatening about what happened during the fight… Seoho stared at their feet, brows twitching.

“It unsettled you.”

Seoho glanced up silently, not bothering to say anything.

Geonhak leaned around his pillow, staring at him quietly, knowingly.

Always way too knowing.

“What he was talking about… it didn’t scare you, but it… You weren’t comfortable.” Geonhak also seemed confused for a moment, like he was trying to envision something in his head. “But… it’s not really a color I’ve seen before.” He held open his palm, staring at it like the color was sitting right there above his skin.

Sometimes, it was almost more unsettling to hear about emotions in colors than in words. Seoho could fight the fact that he had been unsettled.

He could not argue against a color that only Geonhak could see and identify the cause of.

Seoho hated and enjoyed the game of colors Geonhak played. Sometimes colors were easier. Sometimes they weren’t.

“He talked about me like he knew me,” Seoho murmured, holding back a shudder at the thought. “There’s no way he knows me beyond a reputation, but…” He rolled his shoulder loosely. “The thought that those things down there might _actually_ know me… Like they were watching us. It was weird.”

“It was like… midnight blue,” Geonhak said, as if that was important, glancing up at Seoho. “Not black, but… dark enough to be mistaken for it.”

Seoho thought that sounded pretty close to the ice swirling in his stomach at the memory.

“I’ve always tried… to make sure I stayed as far away from dark creatures and the Hellscape as possible,” he muttered, lips twisting for a moment before loosening again. “I hated the kids who would act like I spent the fucking weekends there… I really don’t know shit about all that stuff. Nothing more than anyone does.” He huffed. “Why the fuck are they suddenly acting like they know us?”

When Seoho glanced up at Geonhak… his expression was much softer, much more understanding than Seoho expected. As if he understood the discomfort that was currently cramping his heart into knots that throbbed and ached.

Those creatures acted as if they knew him.

They didn’t know him.

Geonhak pressed his lips together, like he was stopping himself from saying something. But he stared at Seoho as if he understood… and if he was picking up those turmoiled emotions running through Seoho’s head… he probably did.

He knew exactly what Seoho was feeling.

And in the beginning, Seoho had thought that would feel violating- like the elf reaching into Seoho and claiming to know him. But it didn’t feel violating or exposing.

It felt relieving.

“Nothing should come of it,” Geonhak said, voice intending to comfort. “They didn’t mention either of us by name, and nothing he said implied that we would be targeted anymore than usual.” He tossed Seoho’s pillow back.

It caught Seoho in the face, making him shove it down and glare.

Geonhak didn’t smile, but there was that understanding etched into his face once more.

“And even if they did target us… what can they do that we can’t beat them at?” he questioned sincerely. “If we’re good enough that they know about us, but still can’t beat us… I don’t think we’ll have any issues.”

Seoho’s lips thinned, staring at the pillow and running his hand across it to smooth it. “I guess,” he muttered, jaw tightening at a sudden thought. “Sorry that apparently partnering with me brought you a lot fucking closer to the things you never wanted to see again in your life.”

It was half-joking. But part of Seoho was genuinely bitter of that fact that these creatures- these creatures _specifically_ \- had their eyes not only on Seoho, but on _Geonhak_.

Seoho was under no illusion that he could really protect Geonhak from his past that had already left its scars. But the thought of being a direct link between his past and present- even more than Seoho already was…

It made his stomach turn.

“You aren’t like them.”

Seoho’s hand froze over the pillow, his neck suddenly feeling like a rod was stuck through it, keeping it bent in place.

Geonhak’s voice was a familiar kind of firm- the one that always made Seoho think of a kid being scolded.

“I don’t care if every dark elf and dark creature knows everything there is to know about you,” he said sternly. “You aren’t like them. In any way. Even your powers are a different breed compared to theirs.”

Seoho’s jaw clenched, fingers curling into the fluff of the pillow and crushing it.

“We’ve known each other over a year at this point,” Geonhak murmured. “When will you stop feeling guilty over a past you had nothing to do with?”

“That’s not a fair statement,” Seoho fought, glancing up sharply. “I don’t feel guilty over it- I _know_ I didn’t fucking do anything to you. I _know_ I’m not like them, but-“ 

But every part of both of those topics made him feel dirty inside, like black sludge was slowly filtering into his veins.

“You aren’t like them,” Geonhak repeated stubbornly, voice hardening. “And anyone- human or creature- who thinks that you are… is a fucking idiot.”

Seoho stared, stunned, as Geonhak spoke, his lips thinning as Geonhak’s tone turned almost… defensive. As if daring someone to make the accusation.

Geonhak glared at Seoho, as if daring _him_ to make that accusation again.

Seoho was entirely caught off guard by the sudden burning behind his eyes as he turned away quickly.

He had a hundred different quips and jokes to make on the edge of his tongue, but every time he opened his mouth, he felt the sting behind his eyes grow stronger, so he just shut up, breathing through his nose to make the burning retreat.

If Geonhak noticed or cared about his sudden lack of emotional control… he didn’t say anything about it.

And it wasn’t until Geonhak politely excused himself under the excuse of going to see if there were any snacks left for them in the kitchen, that Seoho remembered that there was no way to hide those emotions. Geonhak knew exactly what he was trying to hold back.

“Fucking hell,” Seoho muttered after Geonhak had left, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes sharply, watching spots dance. He hadn’t cried since he was a fucking grade schooler, and he wasn’t about to start now.

He wasn’t even sure why his eyes were burning like this.

Sure, maybe it was the first time someone had defended him in such a… a confident manner, as if there was no doubt in Geonhak’s mind that Seoho was entirely separate from any dark creature or Hellscape… but…

Well, there was no ‘but.’

Geonhak was the first person who treated Seoho like he was human. Like he was equal.

And Geonhak was the first person to stand up on Seoho’s behalf, even only against hypothetical accusations.

By the time he got back, Seoho had his emotions under control.

Well, the physical signs of emotions were gone- eyes calm and not red. But he was sure Geonhak could see the dam wall that had begun to crack, springing leaks that threatened to bring down decades’ worth of rapids crashing over a small, weak town.

Geonhak said nothing, however, and simply handed Seoho a bag of chips.

Somehow, the small gesture only threatened to bring down the dam without even trying. 

It was the best and worst feeling Seoho ever experienced.

He clung to it, regardless.

~~~~~~~~~

The shift in Seoho’s personality did not go unnoticed by the others, of course.

Seoho would argue that his loss of willful ignorance had not caused a visible change to his personality.

The crumbling of his carefully cultivated hope was slowly crushing his chest but Seoho was confident that he was hiding it quite well.

And, of course, they knew exactly what caused the shift from his usual annoying, teasing personality to the silence and spaced-out stares that he started falling into at the most random of times.

And, of course, it was Youngjo who approached him first.

Seoho was sitting on the counter, a lukewarm bowl of cereal in his hands that had a spoonful hovering over it that had been hanging there for much, much too long. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been spacing out- mind a blank, buzzing worry that wouldn’t even do him the decency to create an actual thought.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lost in his head, but he jumped when he realized Youngjo was standing in front of him suddenly.

He also didn’t know how long Youngjo had been standing there, but judging from the gentle crease of concern between his brows staring at Seoho, it was probably too long to be brushed off.

Seoho dropped the spoon back into the cereal. “Hey,” he greeted, hoping that Youngjo might take mercy and just skirt over the fact that Seoho probably looked scared shitless.

He was scared shitless because thus far, he’d avoided voicing his single greatest fear aloud, and Youngjo looked like he was about to start a conversation that would most definitely make it impossible to avoid saying it.

He didn’t want to say it, grip tightening on the bowl as his eyes burned.

Saying it meant it might be real.

Seoho held his breath, knowing that it was useless to try and flee the kitchen, but Youngjo wasn’t saying anything either, though his wings were twitching agitatedly, like they always did when he was trying to find the very best way to approach someone on the team.

Youngjo had a bleeding heart, but Seoho hated the fact he was so good at digging into your walls to peek at what was going on on the other side.

So, he simply sat there and waited for the first attack on the wall hovering between him and everyone since… well, since a while ago.

And while Seoho expected any number of things to come out of Youngjo’s mouth… he still managed to blindside Seoho with a swift strike to his lungs, making it feel like he’d just slammed into the ground at terminal velocity.

“Seoho… go after him.”

It was soft. It was gentle and understanding. And something in it was almost like a plea.

_Please, stop hurting yourself and just go after him._

It would have been less painful if one of Keonhee’s thorny plants had pierced his chest, the bowl in his hands shaking with how hard he clenched it, staring at Youngjo blankly.

“Don’t think of it as running,” he said, expression twisted in sympathy. “Don’t feel guilty about it, don’t think that it’s childish… You were never okay with his decision.”

“It was his decision to make,” Seoho whispered, cursing his voice that came out unsteady and weak.

These were the lies he comforted himself with for the past year.

“And it was your decision to stay here and be miserable for nearly a year now,” Youngjo pressed, as ruthlessly honest as ever, brows twitching. “You can respect his decision while also stopping yourself from being miserable-“

“I was never miserable with you all,” Seoho said firmly, eyes hardening at the implication.

It was this entire team that had accepted him. Everyone here had become his family and more-

“We were never Geonhak,” Youngjo said, making Seoho dig his nails into the knees of his jeans, shaking.

Youngjo’s expression was soft enough to be heartbroken.

“We always knew we weren’t him,” he murmured gently, but Seoho would have preferred if he shouted. “And we keep waiting for you to go after him.”

“I don’t need to track him down,” Seoho muttered, rolling his eyes to hide how they stung, his heart twisting because he knew it was coming, bracing himself-

“You think he’s dead.”

Seoho put the bowl down, rather than risk dropping it to the ground, fists shaking as he shut his eyes, lips pressing together tightly-

No. He couldn’t think that because then it might be true-

“You might think you’re a wall of ice, but all of us can see it, Seoho,” he murmured gently. “It was like a switch flipped. You think he’s dead.”

“Do you not?” Seoho demanded, too harsh and too loud, slamming a fist against the counter weakly.

How could Youngjo believe it longer than Seoho could? How could Seoho have been the first to fear that maybe something was wrong-

Youngjo’s lips thinned, however, contemplating and torn. “I don’t know what I think,” he said quietly, glancing at the ground, wings rustling restlessly. “But I know that none of us will ever get that answer if you don’t go.”

“I can’t go,” Seoho snapped firmly, glaring.

The implications he had given before was that he couldn’t leave his team.

The truth was that he couldn’t bear to find out the worst reality.

“Seoho,” he said, not a scold but a firm statement despite being softer than flower petals. “You want to go,” he murmured. “You’ve always wanted to go. None of us can say a word against you. If it was Dongju who had suddenly gone missing-“

“The only reason Dongju would be missing is that he’d hidden the last snack cake,” Seoho muttered, rolling his eyes with too much malice in them.

Because that was the only defense Seoho had ever had that worked, was anger.

Well, it worked on everyone but the family he’d found.

Youngjo’s silence was enough to lull Seoho into a false sense of security.

“You’re scared of what you might find out.” 

Seoho couldn’t stop the flinch at the statement just being spoken so casually, so assuredly- just thrown out into the world, instead of staying as a closely guarded secret in Seoho’s chest because admitting it…

Admitting it was as good as admitting Geonhak was gone.

But now that it was out there, hanging off Youngjo’s lips like it was nothing, Seoho clenched a slow fist, a tension through his muscles that threatened to snap something inside of him.

“I’d rather live the rest of my life assuming he’s just an idiot who got lost, thanks,” he muttered, feeling a sudden burning in the back of his mouth, like he was going to be sick.

Swallowing the bile, he hopped off the counter, Youngjo taking a step back, but continuing to hold that quiet begging in his eyes.

“Seoho… that’s not-“

“Geonhak’s an idiot, but he’s not stupid,” Seoho said, already brushing passed the older, hoping that he’d said enough that he wouldn’t follow. “He’s not dead. He wouldn’t fucking let those things, or anything else, kill him. He’s probably on hiatus because he ran into some mid-life crises about his morals or some shit.”

For six months. 

Seoho did not look back, and he thanked every god that Youngjo didn’t follow him out of the kitchen, nor did he come knocking on the bedroom door that Seoho closed himself behind.

He told himself he wouldn’t look, but he still glanced over the empty half of the room.

Maybe he should get a new partners, even if just to have something else but empty space to direct and take out all his emotions on. Even if he hated them, even if they hated him… maybe he needed to get one… like a stress doll that you hit against a wall.

He stared at his hands, feeling his stomach twisting with the hunger that had originally driven him to get a snack in the kitchen.

He chose to believe it was hunger, and not something signaling or confirming some horrible reality that he refused to even acknowledge.

It was like walking through a dark set of woods, a moon lighting the path, dark shadows and monsters appearing out of the corner of your eye, but you believed you were safe as long as you didn’t look at them.

Seoho had spent a lot of his life avoiding things. He had practice.

Even though Geonhak was one of the most persistent bastards Seoho had ever known, even when he was gone.

Gone from Seoho’s life, not gone for good.

He was _not_ gone for good.

~~~~~~~~~

The night after their run in with the dark elves, Seoho woke up with panic in his veins.

This was startling for two reasons: first, he had sleeping peacefully, and second, because he recognized the sensation of a foreign emotion that was not coming from him.

He turned his head, squinting through the dimness in the room that spoke of an early, grey hour of dawn, rather than the dead of night.

In the thinnest veil of light filtering through the window, he saw Geonhak sitting up, hunched over and fingers threaded through his hair tightly as his back rose and fell in sharp, quick breaths that were labored enough for Seoho to hear clearly.

Despite the foreign panic thrumming in his veins, Seoho sat up slowly, quietly, trying not to create a sound that might pop whatever bubble Geonhak was floating in.

When Geonhak released a tight, harsh breath, jerking slightly- as if he were tugging on his hair harder, trying to either fight against something or force out some thought that kept floating too close- Seoho stood up quickly, reaching out silently, but not moving away from his bed, frozen for a moment, holding his breath.

In all the time he’d been here, he’d never been in this situation, and now there was his own, actual panic in his chest because he wasn’t sure what to do and comfort was most definitely not what he was good at giving.

Geonhak had fallen silent for a moment, like he was holding his breath, before releasing a quiet, long sigh that made his shoulders sag. At the very least, it seemed like he wasn’t holding his hair so tightly.

Seoho wasn’t even sure if Geonhak knew he was standing there, but he spoke quietly, rather than letting him be surprised by the presence. “… You okay?” he murmured, speaking as quietly as if someone were sleeping beside them.

Either it didn’t surprise him, or he’d known Seoho was there because Geonhak merely nodded, sharp and quick without any real truth behind it. His breathing was quieter but no less deep, as if he was trying to calm himself down.

He didn’t feel any panic, but Geonhak may had just gotten it back under control.

Seoho wasn’t sure what the right step was in this instance, but he knew that it wasn’t going back to bed. Steps unsure, Seoho approached Geonhak’s bed slowly, creeping along the floor like he was trying to sneak around.

He paused a step away, not crowding up close. “Nightmares?” he questioned quietly, looking down at Geonhak who still hadn’t moved.

Seoho was fairly sure that everyone in this line of work got nightmares, even if they didn’t wake up screaming from them. He knew he was different from most in that his nightmares rarely had anything to do with the “horrors” they saw on the job and everything to do with his past and fear of his future.

He was sure Geonhak got them too- either about work or not- but he was also entirely sure that this nightmare was directly related to yesterday, the same kind of fear that had made him freeze, like he was suddenly a kid again standing in a burning village.

Geonhak didn’t verbally answer, but his hands dragged from his hair to cover his eyes, pressing the heels of his palms there with a harsh sigh, shaking his head slightly- not an answer, but an attempt to clear it.

Seoho didn’t know what the right step was here, but it wasn’t to just keep standing awkwardly beside his bed.

Seoho sat down slowly on the edge of the bed, facing Geonhak’s folded up form, seeing a place where the edge of his shirt was slightly singed, likely from a reflex upon waking up.

He just sat there, not knowing what to do, but Geonhak hadn’t told him fuck off yet, so he merely placed his hands awkwardly in his lap, watching him slowly calm down.

Seoho hated to assume, but it was pretty obvious what the nightmare had been about.

He swallowed, sitting only a few inches between Geonhak’s legs that were stretched out and Seoho’s knee that was half-folded onto the bed to be more comfortable.

“I used to… always get nightmares when I joined my first agency,” Seoho murmured, voice a little thick so he cleared it roughly. “I got them before that, but… for whatever reason, they were harder to deal with while I was also pretending not to hate the guts of every partner and team I was assigned to.”

Geonhak said nothing, but Seoho heard him swallow, his breathing finally turning less crackly and labored.

“They were always different,” he went on, not really sure what the point was here. “But they were all about the same stuff… People being right about me, people finally turning on me… Dark creatures dragging me to the Hellscape like I belonged there… My dad- whatever type of demon he might fucking be- showing up… Me losing control, even though I’ve never done anything like that…”

He coughed, the words burning worse than the cough. He’d never voiced those. Not even to his mom when she used to ask what made him wake up sobbing as a kid.

Geonhak was suddenly a lot stiller, like he was listening.

“I sort of grew out of them the older I got… Or, I guess I just sort of got used to it,” he amended with a quiet shrug. “Anyway, the point is…” He stopped, hesitating, not really sure what the point was supposed to be. “I’m sorry,” he finally murmured. “I don’t… I never figured out some magical solution for afterwards.”

Usually, it was either getting up and forgetting about getting back to sleep, or it was laying in the dark and staring blankly, head too full of images and fear to think or move.

To his surprise, Geonhak chuckled. Not bitter and scared, but genuine, if a bit rough and weak.

“You would think,” Geonhak muttered, voice low and quiet, only making it sound deeper in the quiet morning light, “that after a couple of decades… things would fade.”

Seoho couldn’t help his own brief huff of a laugh, a little helpless and a little amused at the unfairness of it all. “You’d think,” he agreed, humming. “Sometimes, they like to make you think they’re gone… but they’re just waiting for the right moment to pop back up again.”

Geonhak hummed in agreement, running both hands through his hair roughly, but he sat up slowly, finally revealing his face- drawn tight and a little pale, his cheeks shining with dampness that was drying up.

Seoho bit the inside of his lip regretfully. “I’m sorry…”

Geonhak gave an unsteady half-smile. “Are you going to feel guilty about this too?”

“You’re an asshole,” Seoho huffed, rolling his eyes, a little defensive but mostly just grateful that Geonhak was able to be a dick even now. “I’m trying to offer comfort as best I can, and you’re _accusing_ me-“ 

“Your comfort sucks,” Geonhak laughed, rubbing an arm across his eyes and clearing away most of the tension and dampness there, leaving him looking slightly more put together, if tired.

There was relief in his eyes, though.

There was always relief when you weren’t alone, Seoho had learned.

Seoho’s chest unlocked slightly as smacked Geonhak’s leg. “ _You_ suck.”

Geonhak snorted quietly. “Yeah, no, your comfort sucks. This isn’t even comforting, it’s just-“

Seoho rolled his eyes as he shifted forward, yanking on Geonhak’s arm until he was also learning forward enough for Seoho to get both arms around him.

It ended up with the two of them a lot closer than Seoho had calculated, but it still ended up with him embracing Geonhak effectively, even if he had to bent over their legs- body freezing for a moment, like he was still processing his position of Seoho’s arms around him and his head resting at Seoho’s shoulder.

Out of spite, Seoho squeezed him tighter. “There,” he said, exasperated, but his voice came out softer than he intended. “Happy? Comforted?”

It was hard to be obnoxious when you were hugging someone like this. For reasons like this.

Seoho had never felt… _comfort_ when his mom would hold him and hug him after a nightmare. There was never a sensation of safety or relief there, there was only the knowledge that at least if something happened, he wouldn’t be alone. It wasn’t the same, but it was enough to survive the next wave of fear.

Seoho wasn’t sure if his pitiful excuse for a hug would convey either, but…

But Geonhak and he had known each other for a while now. And he figured that it was implied that… even if it wasn’t in the field… he still had Geonhak’s back.

The silence stretched for several seconds before Seoho prepared to loosen his grip, claiming his joke and probably just convincing Geonhak to give up sleep and get something to eat with him.

Before he did, however, something loosened under Seoho’s hands, Geonhak’s shoulders falling ever so slightly. It wasn’t falling, per se, with Geonhak remaining like a statue in his arms, but Seoho could feel the tension slowly fading, even if he still didn’t move.

It was… borderline tentative, as if testing if the coast was clear, if it was safe to drop your guard.

Seoho didn’t move, afraid of knocking the calm back into panic. And even if Geonhak didn’t melt into a puddle in Seoho’s arms, he felt the tremors from clenched muscles fade as he breathed out. A hand landed halfway around Seoho’s waist, not holding on, but getting a more comfortable position.

Geonhak’s head rested a little heavier on Seoho’s shoulder.

Neither of them said another word.

Seoho wasn’t panicking, but it was certainly the kind of physicality that the two of them had never really shared. Their touches usually ended at wrestling or hitting or headlocks. Playful, not comforting.

This was fine, though. In fact, Seoho felt relieved that… even if it wasn’t the best comfort, it was _something_ that Geonhak seemed to appreciate.

They didn’t talk about what the nightmare was about, specifically. They didn’t address the fact when Geonhak finally pulled away with a quiet breath, like he was steadying himself, grounding himself.

But both of them were very painfully aware, however, of the physical barrier that they had suddenly overcome.

Seoho hadn’t even been aware there was a wall between them, until he was staring at the rubble where it lay, demolished, as Geonhak pulled away, offering a wry smile.

And suddenly it was just the two of them in a field, nothing between them, and nowhere… nowhere for anything to hide.

Seoho suddenly felt exposed. But not unsafe.

The gratitude in Geonhak’s eyes was enough that Seoho found his own smile, relieved and… and comforted by the results.

The rubble sitting between them was brushed aside, and they moved on.

~~~~~~~~~

Youngjo dropped Seoho directly into a hoard of vampires and werewolves.

He hit the ground running, tearing a bloodsucker off the man struggling on the ground against it, slamming it back into the concrete as Youngjo swooped down, snatching the man up and racing away from the carnage.

Seoho was vaguely aware of Keonhee’s plants pinning creatures down, crushing some and waiting for Seoho to burn the others, icy fire blasting from his hand as Keonhee strangled a werewolf before it could successfully tear through the vines constricting it.

“Incoming!” Seoho heard Hwanwoong yell, and he didn’t even release the vampire he held in one hand, throwing the other upwards where a portal opened above his head, an imp dropping down from a building top-

Hellfire burned it before it made it halfway down.

Seoho frowned, throwing the vampire’s body away. “What the fuck are imps doing here?” he demanded. “We were only told about the vampire den and werewolf packs!”

“They’re sticking to the edge of the city block,” Hwanwoong told him, opening and closing a portal that sliced a werewolf in half. “But there are more dark creatures coming, according to the people on the outskirts.”

Seoho straightened, frowning into the distance that was only covered in howls and hisses. “What sort of dark creatures?” he muttered, more to himself, as he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up like a warning.

There were still creatures roaming around, civilians being evacuated but… Seoho stood still, feeling like there was a drop of ice water slowly crawling down his spine.

He stiffened moments before a shiver traveled up his spine so fast, it nearly made him gag.

“Keon-“

Seoho’s shout was cut off as screeches resonated against the stone and glass of the buildings around them, heads snapping up to look skyward as dark elves leapt from the sides of buildings they’d been hiding in the shadows of.

Shouts were taken up across the courtyard, but Seoho suddenly looked down, staring at the concrete beneath his feet, another shiver gathered at the base of his spine, making him suddenly leap backwards.

The ground exploded once more, another dozen dark elves crawling out like ants from a disturbed hill, grabbing humans and creatures alike with cackles and screeches and hisses.

Dark elves had loyalties to no one but chaos.

Seoho started blasted hellfire, pushing them off of people, chasing them backwards with a hardened expression of stone. He grabbed them by their shirts- an uneven, half-formed dagger of hellfire in his hand slicing across their necks.

It wasn’t anywhere near as refined or powerful as Geonhak’s whips, but he could use it temporarily when it counted.

(Geonhak had been genuinely supportive and ecstatic over the years it took Seoho to form it, as rough and undefined as it was.)

Dark elves weren’t exactly common, but every time they appeared, Seoho got another sinking feeling in his chest. He’s only encountered them a handful of times in his entire time at agencies.

This was the first time they’d appeared since… well, it was over six months at this point. Since before Geonhak disappeared.

Seoho absolutely did take out some pent up frustration and aggression on the creatures that scattered under the blanket of hellfire burning its way.

“Seoho!” Keonhee yelled before a vine wrapped around Seoho’s waist, yanking him backwards one last elf leapt from a building, turning and hissing at Seoho from their distance-

He caught sight of an elf near the edge of the fight, looking around while everyone was occupied with the sudden attack, doubled over and crooked as it twitched with intrigue, examining the battlefield before beginning to wander away.

Seoho struck an vague dagger of hellfire through the dark elf in front of him- watching the dagger disintegrate into shapeless flame as soon as he was done- before racing through the carnage, leaping over bodies and battles for the creature trying to sneak away, searching for humans while they were preoccupied-

The elf only noticed Seoho flying at him at the last second, a panicked screech stabbing his ears as Seoho snagged it by the back of its filthy, threadbare shirt that hung off like torn up nightshirt.

He slammed it backwards, tearing the fabric in the process, but it was enough to get the creature on the ground, fire burning in his eyes as he slammed a hand against its chest to hold it in place.

The elf opened its mouth, wide and rancid and needle teeth threatening to slice into skin-

It froze.

Seoho immediately stiffened, whipping his head around, waiting for another to leap out in a sneak attack. But there was nothing.

“ _You,_ ” the elf hissed, sounding… absolutely delighted.

Seoho whipped back around, glaring as he slid the hand from its chest to its throat, closing down on it, making the elf seize as it began to choke. “Not fucking this again,” Seoho muttered under his breath, teeth gritting together, stomach rolling sickeningly-

The elf was laughing.

Why were they always laughing? Like they knew something he didn’t, like they were playing a game, like they were winning-

“Where’s your dog?” the Elf practically giggled, voice torn and high like a creaking door.

Seoho’s grip tightened so hard, all amusement fled the elf who immediately began to thrash, grasping at Seoho’s arm in a… painfully familiar scene.

Anger welled in his chest, at being in this position again, at the mention of Geonhak, calling him a fucking _dog_ , these fucking elves and _all they had_ _fucking done-_

There was no amusement, but the elf apparently thought it important enough to waste his breath with a weak, squeaking whisper.

“He’s b-been gone… quite a while-“ It choked off, eyes shutting and mouth flapping for air-

Before it suddenly could breath, staring up at Seoho who had released the pressure on its neck without thinking, feeling as if he’d just been struck in the back of the head.

He stared at the elf, too obvious, too effected, too vulnerable-

Seoho grabbed the creature by the front of its shirt, hauling it up until they were face to face, Seoho’s snarl much more threatening than anything this creature could ever hope to produce.

“ _What do you know?_ ” he snarled, staring as it struggled to catch its breath.

He was being too obvious.

It could be lying, it could be luring him, it could just be pulling words out of its ass-

But what if it wasn’t?

It might have been a wheeze or a laugh, but the elf seemed too weak to properly show amusement, head lolling.

“Missing him?” it panted, lips twitching.

Seoho resisted the urge to break the creature’s skull against the ground, even though that was probably what he should do-

“Lost your dog?” he panted breathlessly, voice raw as it stared at Seoho through decaying eyelids. “You should really… keep those things on a leash. I hear- hear anything can happ-“

Seoho stood, taking the creature with him until its legs no longer touched the ground, their faces inches apart as hellfire ignited against the elf’s clothing.

He yelped- high and sharp as he struggled to put distance between them, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

Seoho wasn’t going to let it get away. It would either give him answer, or he’d tear out its fucking heart right here and now.

“What the fuck do you know about him?” he hissed, low and with the desperation carefully hidden away. “You probably don’t even know who the hell you’re talking about,” he muttered darkly, trying to call the bluff, eyes cutting across the elf trying to keep calm. “Just repeating threats you’ve heard others use.”

Geonhak and Seoho were known in the Hellscape.

This… This was nothing more than another passing of word of mouth.

_Just kill him,_ Seoho decided, releasing him with one hand that drew back, icy energy gathering into a half-hearted dagger and making his blood burn-

The elf chuckled weakly.

“Creatures down there aren’t so blind as humans,” its voice rattled, like paper being shredded. “We don’t blindly pass word of mouth without understanding what we’re saying.”

Seoho frowned, tension running through his muscles, threatening to snap.

What…

“Then what the fuck are you saying?” he snapped, jerking the elf that cracked and twitched with the harsh movement. “What the _hell_ do you know about us?”

Seoho was too…

Well, Seoho had been too off-balance ever since Geonhak left.

He had been dangerously lost since the rumors began.

He felt like a fire burning in a forest that no one had built a ring of dirt around, slowly spreading out and losing shape until the forest looked too enticingly able to be burned down entirely.

Geonhak was hardly an impulse control, but he was… he was a counterbalance. One of them rising as the other fell.

So far, Seoho had only ever been falling, wondering how deep it went.

But he suddenly felt as if he was skyrocketing upward, losing oxygen and becoming delirious with the abrupt change- at the mention of Geonhak in the mouth of these creatures.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he grit through clenched teeth, hands shaking with the resistance it took not to break the elf in half just for existing.

The elf laughed, weak and rough.

“I’m just wondering,” he wheezed, “if someone so… so pathetic as you could last as long as him.”

It laughed harder, turning into a harsh expelling of air that smelled acrid.

Seoho’s stomach dropped from existence.

The skyrocketing sensation suddenly turned back into the sensation of free fall.

Last as long…

Last…

Seoho dropped horrified eyes to the elf who was no longer looking at him, instead smirking knowingly at a point behind Seoho, still chuckling weakly.

“But then again,” it rasped sickeningly, coughing slightly. “He had seemed so pathetic, too…”

Seoho whipped around, nearly dropping the body in his fists, eyes wild and searching for what the elf had been staring at.

His eyes fell on the crater in the center of the street. Most of the creatures and monsters had been cleared away, leaving it so painfully obvious and plain-seeming.

Seoho felt the blood rush from his face, grip weakening on he elf.

No.

Truly admirable, the elf gave one last laugh, oblivious to the storm building.

“Impressive, the human resilience. Isn’t it?” it croaked in a gleeful, knowing tease.

Its neck broke under Seoho’s hand.

Seoho stared at the crater, sitting amid the battle damage. The ones everyone avoided, the ones he had pulled Geonhak out of years ago, the ones no one ever came back from if they did happen to fall through…

The world seemed to fall away beneath his feet as he stumbled forward a step.

The crater mocked him in its innocuousness and plainness.

He stumbled, his knee hitting the ground but he stumbled back to his feet, another rough step towards the opening.

He felt like he wasn’t breathing, everything in his chest begging and wishing for it to be true and not true.

He froze, unable to force himself to take another step as the world fell suffocatingly silent.

Seoho’s blood, usually burning like acid, suddenly felt ice cold, making a shiver run down his spine so violently, it made him gag.

Geonhak was in the Hellscape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUN!!   
> I hope you all enjoyed it! Please let me know what you thought!   
> I’m really having so much fun with this fic, and I’ll have the next chapter out as soon as possible, lovelies!!   
> Thank you so much for reading! Stay safe! 
> 
> -SS


	3. Burning Is A Kindness, in a World Without You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, lovelies!   
> I’m sorry if this chapter falls flat- I wrote and edited it with a cold lol~   
> But I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for all the love this fic has been getting!!!   
> Every kudos and comment and read is appreciated! ^u^ 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this chapter! Be safe, lovelies!   
> -SS

Seoho’s ears were ringing, high-pitched and agonizing.

He was staring directly at something, but he couldn’t see it.

The Hellscape-

“ _Seoho!_ ”

He lurched forward as a weight slammed into the back of his head, claws gripping his hair as obnoxiously high laughter pierced his ears-

The imp was ripped from his head, a death squeal sounding as Seoho stumbled, barely able to stop himself from just letting gravity take him to the ground. But he caught himself with the help of the arm holding onto his bicep, keeping him steady.

The attack was enough to jar him out of his head, and this time when he stared at the crater broken in the middle of the street, he saw it completely.

“-hurt?” a voice demanded, loud enough to break through Seoho’s heart pounding. Youngjo’s face appeared in his vision, more frighteningly worried than a simple imp attack would warrant.

But, Seoho supposed, he was just standing here blankly in the middle of a fucking battle, unresponsive.

“Seoho,” Youngjo stressed, shaking him slightly, the movement making Seoho think that throwing up might be a good option, given the rolling of his stomach-

Youngjo was a face in his peripheral, though. Seoho stared at the crater.

“He’s in there,” Seoho whispered, wanting to sound sure and confident and enraged by the knowledge he’d gained.

He just sounded scared. Weak. Pathetic.

He didn’t particularly care, Youngjo glancing to crater and back at Seoho.

“Who?” he demanded, scanning the place for their teammates. “Did one of them escape back down? What happened? Did they-“ He glanced over Seoho’s body quickly- “ _do_ something to you?”

Geonhak was down there.

Suddenly, the sick in Seoho’s throat turned to a burning pain, like a hand squeezing around his throat, choking him.

“He’s down there,” Seoho said, voice stronger, his blood beginning to unfreeze from shock and fear, the burn of his throat traveling through his veins like every part of him was choking-

But every part of him was aware that he needed to go. Now.

When Seoho tried to walk forward, Youngjo only held him tighter, stepping in his path. “Seoho, what the hell happened?” he demanded, concern the only emotion there. “Where are you going- What’s going on?”

“ _He’s down there_ ,” Seoho pressed, not sure what Youngjo might be misunderstanding because who _else_ would Seoho be talking about? He stepped around Youngjo, managing to make it as far as his arm would allow him while still being held by the older.

“Seoho,” Youngjo begged, tugging him back. “Slow down- Talk to me. Down where? Who are you-“

“ _Geonhak!_ ” Seoho snapped, ripping his arm away from Youngjo, the fire in his blood threatening to ignite a powder keg that had been too wet to light for months.

Youngjo’s expression dropped- either in horror at the realization, or in fear that Seoho had finally lost his mind.

Maybe he had because the clashing, raging emotions in Seoho’s chest and head were some that he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.

There was fear and anger and shock and terror and rage and _more_ fear and something that he was too afraid to call hope and something that made him feel like crying was easier than it had ever been-

He was down there.

“He’s in the fucking Hellscape!” Seoho practically shouted, almost manic, fists clenched and trembling and fingernails digging into his palms that were sparking. “They fucking _took_ him-“

“How do you know?” Youngjo asked, stepping forward with a calming hand outstretched though his expression was anything but calm. “How could you possibly know that, Seoho-“

“He fucking said it!” he snapped, pointing at the withered body of the dark elf he’d broken the neck of. “He _taunted_ me about it- He _knew_ that Geonhak had been missing, that we’d noticed-“

How long had it been, exactly, since Geonhak disappeared?

Had they had him the whole time? That was over six months at this point, wasn’t it? Could anyone even survive in the Hellscape that long-

_I’m just wondering if someone so… so pathetic as you could last as long as him._

Seoho’s heart was going to break his ribs for how hard it pounded, his mind feeling like it was being spun at rates no human should be able to survive. He wanted to pass out, to throw up, to fucking _go_ -

He whipped around without thinking about it, but Youngjo grabbed him with all the desperation of someone stopping another from leaping off an edge.

“Seoho, _wait_ -“ he pleaded-

He jerked away, but Youngjo was ready this time, holding on with a strength that Seoho often forgot he possessed.

“Did you not fucking _hear me_?” Seoho demanded, hoping he sounded enraged, but suspecting that he was dangerously close to desperate. “He’s in the fucking Hellscape! Those creatures got to him somehow- They’ve got him in the fucking _Hellscape-_ “

Seoho’s voice broke, but he didn’t even care.

Youngjo looked stricken. “And where do you think you’re going?” he questioned, voice almost a whisper.

“ _Where the fuck do you think?_ ”

“I think you’re about to jump down to your death on the rantings of an enemy,” Youngjo said, infuriatingly calm and even-toned. “You can’t-“

“They’re _not_ just rantings,” Seoho hissed, trying to tear away again, unsuccessfully. “Dark creatures have known about Geonhak and me for _years_ , they’ve always talked like they knew something we didn’t, they were fucking _obsessed_ with us-“

“ _So,_ all of them, of course, know that Geonhak left and that you weren’t taking it well,” Youngjo pressed, as firm as he was gentle. “They know that you’d jump at the first chance of figuring out where he is-“

“And they’re fucking right,” Seoho snapped, yanking hard enough to jar his arm, but Youngjo still didn’t let him go. Seoho grabbed at the older’s hand, trying to pry the fingers off.

He felt like a toddler throwing a fit in a store, a parent holding them in place so they didn’t destroy something in their rage.

“Seoho,” he begged quietly, eyes aching. “You can’t just jump into the Hellscape-“

“ _Fucking_ watch me-“

“-when they know how easy it would be to lure you down there!” Youngjo spoke over him firmly. “You said it yourself- they’re obsessed with the two of you. I don’t know what plans they have for you, but you can’t just hand yourself over so easily to them-“

“You think I’ll make it fucking easy for them?” Seoho hissed, glaring so hard his eyes were starting to water. “He wasn’t fucking _lying_ , Youngjo-“

“How do you know that?” he questioned gently, like dabbing at a bleeding wound-

“ _Because he can’t be dead!_ ” Seoho yelled, not yanking this time, but expression warped enough that his eyes watered, burning-

Youngjo stared at him silently, expression pained.

“He’s _not_ fucking dead, and this is the only reason why he would be gone for so long! He’s not dead, but there’s nothing that would ever keep him off the map this long, so they have to be telling the truth! He’s _down there_ -“

Seoho blinked and realizing his eyes weren’t just watering.

He felt tears slip down his cheeks, hot and burning like acid.

Youngjo’s expression fell into something helpless and hurting as he watched the two, three, four tears drip down his cheeks.

Seoho felt like an exposed nerve. He didn’t care.

He grabbed Youngjo’s wrist, not pulling but holding it tight enough to get his message across. He glared, teeth bared and too many emotions swirling sickeningly in his head.

“I don’t care if they’re lying,” he hissed, too weak and too scared. “I don’t care if I tear that place apart and don’t find anything-“

Youngjo’s hand flexed under his.

“If there’s even a _chance_ he’s down there,” he breathed, feeling like he was choking again, “I’m going after him.”

Everything seemed to stand still around them.

Seoho was either panting or not breathing at all. He felt twitchy, like an electric shock traveling through his muscles- something that urged them to move but also paralyzed.

Youngjo looked torn between begging again and knocking Seoho unconscious to carry him away from the crazy talk.

Seoho’s jaw was ready to break for how hard he clenched it, too aware of the cool air making the tears on his cheeks turn icy.

If there was even a chance that Geonhak was alive… that he was down there… in that hell…

In that hell that took everything from him…

Seoho didn’t have a choice. He would tear it apart and either find Geonhak or do everyone a favor by burning it down.

“At the very least… you’re not going alone.”

Seoho whipped around, so on edge that he didn’t recognize the voice at first, only knowing that there was suddenly someone behind him.

There were multiple people behind him, his team standing in a battle-beaten, staggered line that stared at him with enough weight and sympathy in their eyes to say they’d been there a while.

Hwanwoong straightened up a bit, wetting his lips. “The chances of this being a blatant lie, at best, and a trap, at worse… are really fucking high.”

Seoho didn’t care-

“So I don’t know what you were planning,” Dongju said, looking slightly unnerved but holding himself sternly. “But you’re not going into that alone.”

Seoho opened his mouth, a hundred arguments on his tongue.

It wasn’t their fight, he had to go alone, they didn’t need to, it wouldn’t matter, they didn’t get it-

But all of those… were false.

Geonhak may not have been their partner, but he was their friend and family as much as anyone else.

Seoho swallowed, only realizing belatedly that he’d been about to throw up.

“What about… the agency and stuff?” he questioned, not feeling calm but having enough familiar faces, _willing_ faces, to feel less like he was already falling. 

“Fuck the agency,” Dongju snorted, shrugging like that settled that.

“We had enough reason to think everything was okay to need official proceedings so that we didn’t fuck up both yours and Geonhak’s life by just going after him,” Keonhee said, shaking slightly but still there. “At this point? If… If he really is down there… Then we couldn’t give two shits about the punishments for going after him.”

Seoho’s heart was beating too fast, his face too openly blank.

He turned back to Youngjo who was still holding on. “What about you?” he rasped, realizing that he was shaking slightly where he was being held.

Youngjo sighed, a weight leaving him even if he still seemed like he was verging on exhaustion. “I don’t give a shit about punishments, Seoho,” he breathed like a ridiculous laugh, staring at the other like he was crazy. “I give a shit about you, on the verge of hysterics, about to leap into a fucking death pit on nothing but an enemy’s word.”

“So you think we should wait?” Seoho demanded.

Youngjo sighed, shaking his head slowly. “I thought you should wait until you weren’t practically in the middle of a mental episode,” he said delicately. “We’re going after him… now that you don’t look like you’re ready to have a mental breakdown, and you can think and _fight_ a little more coherently.” 

Youngjo released his arm slowly as Seoho stared at him.

Seoho couldn’t claim that he was feeling any more coherent now or any farther from a mental breakdown than he was for the past year. But… But, like the past year, he had four people surrounding him, keeping him from getting too close to an edge.

In this case, though, they were standing at the edge with him.

“So, we’re just jumping down?” Dongju questioned, glancing back at the crater with disdain and a little concern.

“That’s the only way to the Hellscape,” Hwanwoong murmured, brow furrowed in thought.

“No portals?” Dongju asked, hopeful despite knowing it was fruitless.

“Even if I could see it clearly enough to make one down there, it probably wouldn’t work,” Hwanwoong said, lips twisted in displease. “Shit’s weird down there. I might be able to get us back out, depending on how different things work down there, but…”

That raised the issue that made the Hellscape so terrifying: no one had ever made it back out.

The only assumption was that powers worked differently down there. Maybe they didn’t work at all. But people who should have been perfectly capable of escaping never showed up again.

So, if Hwanwoong couldn’t make a portal back out… how did they get out?

Truthfully, Seoho hadn’t thought about it, and he didn’t really care. At least, if he was going alone, he wouldn’t care.

He stared at the others, throat tight. “There’s no guarantee we can make it back,” he said thickly. “You can stay-“

“If you’re about to make the utterly insulting insinuation that we would stay while you went, with equally unlikely changes of not coming back,” Keonhee said primly, eyes narrowed, “then I’m about to gag you with a vine for being stupid.”

“We’re not his partners,” Youngjo’s voice said quietly, gently. “But we’re still his friends, Seoho.”

Yes, but… if they didn’t come back…

But Seoho knew one thing: if Geonhak was the most infuriatingly stubborn person in the world, then every other person present here ranked second.

A sudden lurch of cold fear grabbed his heart as he realized how long they’d been standing there.

“If we’re going, we need to go now,” he said, as if a few minutes would a difference after six months-

Had he been there the whole time?

Was he… Was he even still alive? He couldn’t be dead, and the elf spoke as if he was still alive-

_But then again. He had seemed so pathetic, too…_

No.

No, he was alive.

Human resilience, he’d called it.

They’d thought Geonhak was weak- a useless human who would roll over and give up… but that the grossest miscalculation anyone could ever make about Geonhak. Geonhak was stronger than that.

Geonhak was still alive, in the most unlivable place on earth, a place designed for humans to die-

And _Geonhak was still alive._

Seoho glanced at the others, walking forward. Youngjo didn’t grab him, but the others fell in step beside him, walking swiftly to the nearest crater.

The main battle had moved further down the street, the sounds and roars from it distant compared to the silence around them.

Seoho was sure people were going to notice their absence, but he didn’t really care.

Youngjo hooked one arm through Dongju’s and offered the other to Seoho.

Seoho linked arms, unable to think back to the first fight he and Geonhak had done together, the burning pain of his whips being the only thing between him and falling to the Hellscape even earlier in his life.

Seoho liked to think that even then… he would have jumped after Geonhak, without hesitation. 

Vines wrapped around Keonhee and Hwanwoong’s waists, prepared.

“Hey, maybe Keonhee’s plants could just break through to the surface,” Hwanwoong suggested, smiling hopefully but with eyes that were clearly trying to chase away the anxiety there.

“Maybe,” Seoho muttered, staring down into the inky blackness.

It stared back at him.

“We’ve wasted enough time,” he murmured, holding tighter to Youngjo.

“Then let’s go,” their leader said, voice tense and worried but with the ever-present calm that made Seoho glad that no one else was leading their team.

He said nothing.

But Youngjo leapt into the darkness, and he heard Keonhee and Hwanwoong fall after them.

Darkness swallowed them.

Seoho did not feel alone.

He did, however, feel a rage the likes of which he had never experienced before.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho wasn’t even in the dorm.

He was out on the grounds of the compound- not at the training grounds and not near the walking paths people frequented during their free moments.

He was nearly in the middle of nowhere, just out in a grass field near the edge of the compound before the wall of trees that surrounded the grounds began. There was a small stream that cut through the bottom of the hill- dirt and rock making it hard to reach the water itself, but the ledge it created through the dirt was comfortable to sit on and dangle your feet over.

Seoho never came out here often, namely because he was always busy doing things. But there were no practices or meetings, his team was sort of doing their own individual things, and he was starting to feel cooped up where he had been scrolling his phone on the couch.

Seoho was quiet, watching the little orbs of energy he dropped into the stream below disperse like food coloring into the gently running water.

He lifted his hand to be level with his face, watching the energy dance like flames across his skin.

Seoho’s life had gotten… so much better than it had ever been over the past years.

He no longer fell into those bouts of darkness and isolation where even the sight of his own powers made his stomach turn, where he never let his powers show unless they were in the middle of a fight, where he avoided people like they would make him sick, where he stared at himself in mirrors and wondered why the hell he was even here if they would only ever see him as villain waiting to be ordered away.

Now…

Now when he looked at his powers dancing across his skin, turning it cold while his blood burned… now, he just felt an odd sort of contemplative contentment.

There was acceptance there, but something like curiosity and confusion tainting his blood.

Instead of wondering why he was even here… he wondered what his life might have been if he had never joined an agency to begin with.

Was it worth it, saving himself from decades of abuse and unfair anger, if it meant he never met Geonhak? The others? People who didn’t just tolerate him, but valued and accepted and… and cared about him?

Unequivocally, the answer was no. He would take those years, if it meant ending up here.

Even if he saved himself the years of abuse, he still would have gone through those years, alone and ostracized and perhaps hating himself even more.

Geonhak had approached him… because Seoho had been sad.

If you asked Seoho, he had been angry. He’d never been sad. “Sad” implied that he cared what these people thought and he didn’t. “Sad” felt like such a weak emotion to have.

But it wasn’t until he sat across from Geonhak, throwing a fork at him that wasn’t retaliated against in genuine hatred and fear at the aggression, but in an exasperated annoyance as Geonhak flicked a fireball the size of a golf ball at him, fully knowing Seoho would dodge.

Seoho hadn’t known what it was like… to not be feared… until Geonhak sat beside him.

You never realized the weights you carried until they were set down. You didn’t realize how alone you were until someone decided to stay. You didn’t realize how much it hurt… until you met someone who had no intention of giving harm.

Seoho closed a fist around the energy, snuffing it out and dropping his fist into his lap with a quiet sigh, tilting his head back and staring at the sky.

“Freedom” was the wrong word to use, seeing as he hadn’t been held captive anywhere before. But it was the closest sensation he could liken to the airy feeling in his chest, the relief that flooded his veins every day, the weight that no longer feeling like it was choking him.

It was naturally noisy out here- the white noise of trees in the breeze, the grass rustling, the stream trickling- so Seoho didn’t realize someone was approaching until they were close enough for his general sense of proximity to go off.

He turned, tensed for only a moment, before seeing Geonhak standing at a short distance, hands in his pockets and something like amusement in his eyes, like he found it funny that Seoho was sitting beside the stream.

“Orange,” Geonhak merely said confidently, glancing Seoho over. “Sort of like at sunset. The softer kind, though, not the vibrant one.”

Seoho was used to this game, drawing one leg up so he could half-face the other, smirking back in amusement. “And what sort of emotion does that correlate to?” he questioned, eyebrow lifting cockily.

Geonhak didn’t answer immediately, which was slightly abnormal. He liked playing the game of telling Seoho about the emotions that were better described as colors than words, and Seoho found it intriguing to see how Geonhak saw the world- both in blinding colors that gave him headaches and crashing sensations inside his head that gave him migraines.

This far away from people, however, there were no headaches to speak of.

Geonhak’s hesitation was unusual, given that he’d seen most emotions so many times, they were like memorized definitions. The only time he’d ever hesitated was when an emotion came from Seoho, specifically.

Seoho was just special like that.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted honestly, walking the remaining distance- not sitting, but standing beside Seoho at the ledge, looking down at the water. “I haven’t figured out the pattern for when you feel it.”

Seoho snorted, leaning his chin on the knee drawn to his chest, smirking. “I’m a complicated person. Don’t assume you can understand me so easily,” he teased, chuckling.

“You’re not complex,” Geonhak said bluntly, making Seoho release a noise of protest. “You just feel emotions that no one else has ever had to feel before.”

Seoho paused, staring frozen at the stream as Geonhak continued to stand calmly.

“Honestly,” he murmured, almost more to himself, “no one should have had to feel them.”

Seoho’s jaw tightened. “You know, you like to make me sound like a martyr,” he said, keeping his voice light to combat the way his chest suddenly felt too tight. “Sounds very noble.”

“It’s not noble,” Geonhak assured him bluntly, glancing down at Seoho briefly before looking back at the stream. “It’s sad.”

The tone that was carried on that word- “sad-“ was not the kind of sad that came from not being invited to a birthday party. It wasn’t being rejected, it wasn’t losing your favorite game, and it wasn’t even losing someone close to you.

The tone Geonhak used was the kind of “sad” that no one aside from someone whose empathy reached supernatural levels could ever understand.

It was a weighted word, heavy with the experience of a million people’s emotions- comparing and grouping and ranking intensities. Overwhelming and constant and always in the back of his mind.

Seoho’s emotions were not special. But… most people didn’t spend their lives being ignored until they were considered old enough to be a threat, ostracized until they were too powerful to be considered ignorable, and then targeted because… well, because he was one of the monsters they were supposed to fight against.

“Stop it,” Geonhak said, looking down at him in annoyance.

“What?” Seoho demanded, gesturing around to show that nothing had changed.

Geonhak’s jaw tightened before huffed, dropping to the ground to sit beside Seoho, one knee drawn up and his arm resting on it casually.

The weather was warm enough that he wore short sleeves without his usual jacket in place. It made the burn scars on his arm easier to see, the sleeve riding up from his position.

Seoho had seem them enough by now, after years of sharing a room and missions, not to be fazed by them, though he still found himself glancing at them in passing every now and then. Geonhak had never brought them up unless Seoho instigated the conversation first, so used to them that he barely even registered them anymore.

“Contemplative,” Geonhak said abruptly, staring off into the woods, making Seoho frown in confusion at the random word.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he snorted, shaking his head.

“The orange,” he corrected, glancing at Seoho briefly. “I’m beginning to think it has to do with when you get contemplative. It usually only shows up when you’re quiet for a while.”

Seoho smirked, shrugging. “Well, I’m hardly ever quiet for long-“

“That’s not right, though,” Geonhak broke in, frowning and looking Seoho over like the answer was written somewhere on his person. “There’s a real emotion driving it, but I can’t find the right word for it.”

“You know you don’t have to have a name for every emotion, right?” Seoho asked, lifting his eyebrow exaggeratedly.

“I don’t catalogue everyone’s emotions,” Geonhak huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Just mine?”

Geonhak didn’t immediately respond back, expression frozen in annoyance before falling back to his usual thoughtful calm, lips thinning in contemplation.

Seoho was silent, not expecting that to be the thing that ended the teasing.

“I don’t catalogue them,” he said, voice just on the side of stiffer than it was a moment ago. “I just care about yours more than most people’s. And the others,” he added, but… it was more of an afterthought than a continued statement. 

Seoho’s tongue wanted to make some smart comment about being special, something to tease him, maybe knock his shoulder hard enough to push him down the little ravine. But it stayed in his mouth, throat a little too tight to speak at the moment.

“It’s like gratitude, almost,” Geonhak murmured absently, and Seoho took a moment to realize they were back to talking about the orange. “Warmer than that, though… More personal.”

“If it’s more personal, why do you keep trying to figure it out?” Seoho challenged, voice light, despite the fact his heartbeat was probably twice as fast as it should be.

Geonhak side eyed him, expectant. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked, genuine, but with the air of expectancy, as if he was reminding Seoho about the fact they’d already talked about this.

Seoho already knew that. He just liked being able to try and have the last word.

Geonhak had long since addressed with their entire team about what levels of comfort they had with him reading their emotions. If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the emotions like leaves caught in a current- brushing by in passing, tangible but gentle enough to almost ignore if you tried hard enough.

Seoho had thought he would be the first to tell Geonhak to ignore whatever emotions he got from him.

But he rolled his eyes, already having assured Geonhak years ago that he had nothing to hide and didn’t care what Geonhak saw coming from his head.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care if people saw what came from his head.

He just didn’t care if _Geonhak_ saw what came from his head.

“So why are you sitting by the stream like you’re waiting for your husband to return from war?” Geonhak questioned, voice shifting to show that their previous conversation was done.

Seoho neither felt relief nor regret at having the subject changed, but he didn’t speak immediately, still watching Geonhak.

You would never guess he had thousands of emotions constantly assaulting him from his expression, always calm and controlled, unless he was laughing or being a piece of shit. Seoho watched him pick up a handful of grass and turn it to cinders while he waited for Seoho to respond.

Geonhak was the most annoying person Seoho had ever known.

And somehow, Seoho had never felt more comfortable alongside someone- even outside of missions and trusting their lives to each other.

Geonhak somehow saw everything that tumbled from Seoho’s fucked up head, and he was unfazed, despite being confused by some of the emotions at first when he realized he hadn’t quite ever felt sadness, happiness, relief, joy in the exact same brand that Seoho did.

Because no one he’d ever met before had gone through what Seoho had.

Seoho tore up his own handful of grass, but he didn’t burn it. Instead, he opened his palm and let the breeze brush it off, some falling and some flying off into the breeze.

Geonhak understood parts of Seoho that no one else did, not even the rest of their team. The rest of their team could never know the exact brand of angry hurt that flashed through Seoho’s chest at the stupid, childish aggressions others performed against him in the cafeteria- bumping into and mocking him without remorse.

None of them could understand exactly the kind of relief in his chest when someone shoved him onto the couch in the middle of a pillow fight, unafraid of true retaliation.

None of them could understand the exact way his blood froze in his chest when he saw dark creatures threatening the only people in the world who cared about him.

None of them could understand the confusion, almost fear, that seized Seoho when he realized just how much _he_ cared. How much he needed these people to be safe, how much it winded him when he realized that Geonhak and the others… were the opposite of everything he’d grown up with. 

None of them could understand… exactly what Seoho felt. Even Seoho didn’t understand it, the intensity of the emotions, the surprise of them suddenly appearing…

“What about relief?” Seoho murmured absently, not answering Geonhak’s question, but imagining a pale orange running through his veins as his chin rested on his knee and he stared blandly into the distance, heart still beating too fast.

Geonhak frowned, clearly not following the conversation at first before realizing Seoho had gone back. “Well, you just felt a lot more of it just now, compared to before. Are you relieved right now?”

Seoho chuckled, shrugging, pausing for a moment.

Geonhak knew him in ways no one else did. And no one else could.

And to this day, Seoho couldn’t believe that the sensation would bring comfort instead of violation.

“It’s realization,” Seoho muttered softly, holding back a glance at Geonhak.

A quiet pause, Geonhak digesting the statement. “Realization of what?” he asked, voice equally quiet.

Seoho wasn’t even sure, for the longest time. But he knew now. “That things are different,” he said firmly, assuredly. He hated trying to be mushy or talk too in depth at the emotions that existed in his head, but…

But it was Geonhak sitting next to him, and even if he hated it, it was easier.

“You already know that I was expecting this to be nothing but toleration at best,” he said, looking at Geonhak who nodded in understanding. “Sometimes, I just think about how I was living before… and how I am now… and I realize that its different. In every way.”

Geonhak was quiet, mulling over the information. “Realization isn’t an emotion,” he said, making Seoho scoff with laughter and roll his eyes. “I’m just gonna label it as gratitude. Unless that’s too far off?” he questioned.

Geonhak didn’t catalogue everyone’s emotions.

But he always took a meticulous sort of care to memorize Seoho’s. At first, he thought it was just a pursuit of the unknown.

But then Geonhak had handed over a milkshake from the cafeteria while Seoho was just sitting on the couch, confused by the sudden kind gesture, but Geonhak just responded- _“You’re the confusing shade of blue-green again.”_

It was the color of the emotions that got clogged up in Seoho’s chest. The ones that still wanted to fight and sneer when he was faced with indifference and anger, mingling with the part of him that was so tired of fighting all these nameless people he cared nothing about. It was the emotions that drained him, making him feel tired the whole day as he fought with himself.

Seoho rolled his eyes, throwing some grass at Geonhak. “Of course there’s fucking gratitude there,” he muttered. “You guys are the first people who didn’t immediately want me to die on the spot.” He was quiet, chest growing so heavy so quickly, the words were practically forced from his mouth. “You were the first person who didn’t hate me.”

There had been no immediate spark between the two of them. Seoho had never befriended Geonhak purely because he didn’t hate him.

It had been a journey the two of them went on together, tentative at first and more confident as the days added up and the missions happened and the ugly emotions that had gnarled most of Seoho’s heart were slowly withering from disuse.

“You said, once,” Geonhak murmured quietly, pausing for a long moment. “You said that the white that I saw… you said it was trust.”

Seoho might have been embarrassed to have each of his emotions analyzed. He wasn’t.

“You said that it was so intense… because you’d never felt it before.”

Seoho had said that, after one of their first battles together, when Seoho finally realized that he could turn his back on Geonhak… and expect more than just for _Geonhak_ not to be the one attacking him. He could expect Geonhak to lay down his safety to ensure Seoho’s.

And yes… that was the first time in his life that Seoho had felt that. 

“What about it?” Seoho asked, frowning gently as he stared at Geonhak’s profile that was set in thought.

Geonhak’s lips thinned, something dancing close to anger, but closer to frustration.

“You experience positive and negative emotions… that I’ve never seen before,” he said after a long while. “You’ve gone through things that no one else could ever even imagine.”

Seoho almost brought up the martyr thing again, but he merely turned back to the woods, feeling a little too exposed. “So have you.”

Geonhak looked at him sharply enough that Seoho knew he wasn’t expecting that.

Seoho merely looked at him expectantly. “Am I wrong?”

Geonhak’s tense expression loosened, falling back into understanding. “My point is…” He lips pressed together once more, eyes tracing over Seoho again and again.

Seoho waited.

Geonhak glanced away, like he couldn’t look at him anymore. “I don’t want…” He stopped. “I mean that-“ He cut off even faster, biting the inside of his cheek tightly. “When I feel you feeling these things… and I know that they’re born because most of these emotions aren’t ones you’re used to- or ones you’re _too_ used to, and I-“

He cut off, making a harsh, reprimanding noise as he shook his head, like he was scolding himself for what he couldn’t say. Or for what he almost said.

Seoho frowned. “You…?” he prompted quietly, hoping that support would prompt him to continue.

Geonhak stared at his feet, and while his expression was calm enough, his eyes were angry. Frustrated.

Sometimes, Seoho wished he had a direct a line to Geonhak’s emotions.

“I mean that I want…” Geonhak looked as if he was physically fighting the words in his mouth.

Seoho frowned, concern beginning to gather in his chest, erasing some of the confusion and tension from before. “Geonhak-“

Geonhak merely sighed, shaking his head as if that was the end of it. “Nevermind,” He muttered. “I’ll tell you later.”

He almost wanted to press the issue, but… Seoho of all people didn’t have a right to pressure people into talking about things they wanted to avoid.

He merely nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said quietly, wondering what could possibly be making him hesitate.

Geonhak glanced at him, seeing the concern etched into his face and probably permeating his emotions. He rolled his eyes, swinging his torso to hit his shoulder against Seoho’s roughly.

“Stop worrying,” he huffed, even as Seoho’s stomach dropped at the hit that upset his balance.

He slid down the small ditch to the stream on his butt, stopping himself with a foot on a rock before he actually got anywhere close to the water.

The fall wasn’t dangerous at all, but he looked up at Geonhak with all the rage of a drowned cat. “What the fuck, dude-“

Geonhak was grinning, bright and mocking and triumphant, all traces of the inner battle he’d had disappearing as light flooded his expression.

And even if Seoho spent the next ten minutes climbing back up, throwing energy orbs and fire balls, ranting about how fucking annoying Geonhak was, acting like he’d been wounded by the two-foot fall-

Even as he made sure Geonhak understood just how annoyed he was… he knew that Geonhak would feel the undeniable relief in his chest as he chased Geonhak around the small hill, throwing fireballs that Geonhak dodged and returned with his own orbs of red flame.

Even when Seoho managed to tackle him, pinning him for a moment- knowing that it wouldn’t last long because Geonhak’s upper body strength was better than his- that feeling didn’t die.

Even as Geonhak shoved Seoho off of him, but made no move to re-instigate the fight… Seoho felt the familiar airiness in his chest, like sunlight and helium filling his chest.

“Freedom” was the wrong word of it. “Relief” wasn’t right either. 

Whatever the name or color of it was… Seoho was grateful that there was a moment in his life when he could experience it.

He was grateful that there had been someone… who cared enough to try and kindle it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Seoho’s feet hit solid ground in the middle of a large, stone room with a single door and a cluster of dark elves huddled together, seemingly in conference.

Everyone frozen for a heartbeat.

Three of the elves were dead before they’d even noticed they’d been intruded upon- swallowed by shadow, strangled with vine, and thrown against the rough stone of the hewn walls with a sickening crunch.

The room was spacious, but small enough that Seoho crossed it in a second, a burning orb of hellfire shoved through the chest of the nearest elf as a portal appeared, making another disappear into the ground and reappear right in Dongju’s power sphere.

Surprise was their advantage, and only one elf remained alive, held tightly in place by Keonhee, squirming desperately. The battle ended in seconds, Seoho standing there and stalking over to the remaining elf-

A chorus of sharp cries echoed in his ears as he whipped back around, panicked, to find his team collapsing to the ground.

A gleeful screech made him turn back to see Keonhee also dropping to the ground, clutching his chest with ragged breaths.

The elf tried to lunge at his fallen form, but Seoho caught it, slamming it back against the wall hard enough crack the stone, letting its body slump to the ground as he whipped back around.

Information was useless right now. There were others they could capture.

He dropped down beside Keonhee, hands hovering, not sure what was wrong as another wave of panic threatened to consume him as Keonhee trembled in the ball he had curled into, sounding as if he was breathing through glass.

“Keonhee-“ He laid a gentle hand on his back, glancing at the others, in similar states of labored pain, Youngjo’s wings twitching frantically, like they wanted to fly but wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.

Seoho swallowed the panic minimally. “What- Where-“

He just sat there, helpless, mind a blank buzz as he searched for physical wounds that didn’t exist and pain he couldn’t find a reason for.

Until Youngjo’s wings twitched and another pained cry sounded from him.

“Your powers!” Seoho burst, half-standing before realizing there was no point to it. “Our powers, are they-“

Seoho held out a hand, watching a blue flame appear inside it, frowning as he turned back to the others.

Hwanwoong was the first who raised his head, face ashen and lips pale, like everything had been sucked out of him. His arm shook where it pushed him up, Seoho rushing over to help him sit up, feeling how he shook like a muscle after being overworked for hours.

“Is it…”

“It’s fading,” Hwanwoong rasped, a hand still pressing tightly to his chest, wincing. “At least- At least, the pain is. I feel like… shit,” he breathed, rubbing at his forehead.

“Why only you guys?” he demanded, shifting towards Dongju, laying a comforting hand against his back as he gasped for air. “Why not me…?”

“You’re demonic.”

Seoho looked to Youngjo who was forcing his elbows beneath himself, despite clearly being in more pain than the others who were beginning to come back to themselves, groaning and hissing.

Youngjo looked moments from passing out, and Seoho left Dongju to Hwanwoong as he shuffled over. “What?” he demanded quietly, chest disgustingly open with fear.

“We always figured the Hellscape did something to powers,” Youngjo said, pausing to flinch, pressing a palm to his stomach. “We just used them, so it clearly doesn’t take them away.”

His wings shivered.

“But it seems like there’s a hard consequence for using them here,” he croaked, managing to sit up, wings tucked tightly against his back as he sucked in a large breath. “But… you’re demonic. Your powers are part of this place.”

Seoho’s face did an uncontrollable wrinkle at the statement, but it wasn’t wrong.

“Fucking shit,” he hissed, holding onto Youngjo’s arm to keep him up. He scanned across the others who were working on standing, though they seemed on the verge of either fainting or throwing up.

“I guess there wasn’t much point in us coming, then,” Keonhee laughed weakly, holding his head. He swallowed thickly. “But you can’t turn yours off, Youngjo…”

Seoho turned back to him and the grin that Youngjo gave them was almost genuine enough to be comforting, if not for the clear stress around his pinched eyes and sweat clinging to his hairline.

“Even if we can’t use our powers, this place is big enough that we’ll probably need all of us to look,” he said, using Seoho’s hand as an aid to get his legs beneath himself.

Dongju rushed over, taking his other arm as the two of them worked to get him on his feet. “Does that mean you’re just constantly going to be in pain?” Dongju demanded, looking prepared to drag Youngjo up to the surface himself.

Youngjo chuckled, calming as he withdrew a hand from Seoho to pat Dongju’s head. “It stops hurting when I don’t move them.”

“It stops hurting, or it hurts less?” Dongju questioned, eyes dark and knowing.

Youngjo simply smiled comfortingly before turning to the others. “We should move. We don’t know what this room is for.”

Seoho suddenly remembered what they were here for.

Geonhak was here, somewhere.

“Let’s get out of here,” he agreed, glancing around to see if any of them needed any extra support, but they were all clinging to their partners, seeming to be gaining back strength slowly after the onslaught of pain.

Seoho felt yet another wave of guilt for his powers.

“Looks like it’s up to you to protect us, Seoho,” Hwanwoong said lightly, though his voice was strained. “Don’t fuck it up.”

Seoho glared at him without heat as he approached the door first, reaching out-

There was no doorknob.

He frowned, placing a hand against it and pushing, but it didn’t budge.

When he stared at it, it was wide enough to be a set of double doors, but there was no crack in the middle. He frowned deeper, stepping back when it didn’t budge, examining the outline.

“Why couldn’t it just be a normal door?” Keonhee bemoaned, reaching out and pushing against it uselessly.

“Maybe dark elves use super strength,” Hwanwoong murmured, glancing around to clearly assess who would be best for that task, but Seoho was busy staring at the seam between the wood and the hewn rock around it.

It almost seemed as if the wood became rock- the two materials merging together without a visible separation, blurred together with something very much supernatural.

He frowned.

“It has to open somehow,” Youngjo said firmly, voice tense enough to be struggling through the pain or discomfort still lingering. “These elves got in here somehow.”

“Maybe they use more tunnels?” Keonhee suggested with a wince, knowing it was unlikely. “Maybe they seal them in so that things like this can’t happen, if someone does come down the craters.”

“You mean, like a failsafe? Then how would they get back out?” Dongju demanded, glancing back at the bodies.

“Maybe we should have kept one alive,” Hwanwoong murmured, though he sounded very much against the idea.

“Do you think it only recognizes the dark elves?” Youngjo guessed, stepping up beside Seoho and pressing a hand to the wood with dark concern in his eyes.

Recognition…

Seoho stared at his hand against the wood, pale compared to the dark mahogany-esque color.

Recognition.

_You’re demonic._

“Step back real quick,” he muttered, glancing at Youngjo who complied immediately, though looked further concerned.

Seoho held his breath, not wanting to get his hopes up as he let the familiar burning in his blood run through until a small burst of hellfire covered his hand like glove.

There was a _foom_ sound, like a very large fire was catching.

Everyone stumbled back, unsure of where it was coming from, Seoho tearing his hand away-

The bottom of the wood caught in a large wave of icy hellfire that rapidly crawled up the door until it reached the ceiling, looking as if it had burned away the wood until they were standing in an arched doorway with no door.

“ _Quick_ ,” Seoho had the mind to urge as they all stared, unsure how long it would last… or if it would necessarily listen more than once if it did close.

There was no time to plan.

They all rushed forward, carefully checking on either side of the doorway. They were faced with a hallway that extended to either side, black rough stone creating something of a floor and ceiling, though the dips and hills of it made it look more like someone had found a conveniently shaped cave and made a home out of it.

The hallway was empty, but similar looking doors were scattered along it- lit by little puddles of hellfire gathered in the random dips and holes of the floor, as if someone had poured it in.

It made everything a very eerie blue, despite Seoho being so used to the color.

His skin felt very cold.

“Which way?” Dongju hissed, looking concerned in a way that ventured towards afraid.

Seoho didn’t know if he would call himself “afraid” but they were four people who were now basically powerless, relying on Seoho to keep them safe. That was enough to make anyone nervous… added to the fact of why they were here, Seoho was trying not to think about anything and let instinct control his actions.

“Doesn’t matter, we have no idea either way,” Hwanwoong muttered, glancing around. “Left?”

“As good as either,” Seoho murmured, squinting in the dim lighting to see if any shapes and dancing shadows turned into creatures.

They ran- careful to keep their feet as silent as possible, even their breathing seeming to echo alarmingly loudly in the close walls and hard rock.

It sounded like there was water dripping from somewhere as they ran along the hallway that gave no indication it would end soon.

It did, however, split quickly- a Y shape leading into two directions.

They chose right because either guess was as good as any.

The next… however eternally long time of their lives were incredibly boring, despite Seoho’s heart beating faster than it ever had, making him want to gag with every pulse that traveled along his body.

They chose random directions at each T and Y crossroad they came to, none of them daring to speak, though it was obvious their moods were becoming increasingly low with every minute that showed no end in sight.

They didn’t even run into any creatures, which was a relief and a concern in and of itself. Where were they? What were they doing? Was each door they passed filled with them, like they had seen before?

They turned a corner and were suddenly forced to stop at the sudden light that flooded their eyes that had gotten used to the darkness.

Compared to the puddles of hellfire they had been dodging along their path, this hall had torches of hellfire lining the wall nearly every foot, casting it into a much brighter light than before.

And at the end, there was a square of blue, seeming to lead into a more open space.

“Anyone else feel like we’re both super lucky and about to walk into a trap?” Keonhee murmured, the first words spoken in what felt like a couple of hours.

Seoho held his breath. “Not much we can do, either way.”

They trudged on, Seoho feeling like his muscles were slowly cutting off the supply of blood to every part of his body, like his every limb was slowly losing feeling.

“You think that’s a way out?” Hwanwoong whispered, hands held close, like he might accidentally use his powers.

“It’s a way to somewhere,” Youngjo responded under his breath, expression a mixture of tense worry and leftover discomfort.

Seoho hated feeling helpless.

And at the moment, he was one person responsible for everyone around him, and he had as much information as an infant crawling on the ground, looking at things for the first time, not even knowing what was dangerous or not…

And there was no way to find anything out. He just had to move.

He had to find Geonhak.

He wasn’t dead.

At the end of the tunnel, the blue square turned into an opening that lead out into a world of fire.

It might have been a scene from a movie- the group of them bursting into light that they shielded their eyes from again- going from even the bright lighting of the hall to what looked like broad daylight.

Except, Seoho had never seen a movie that depicted a world on fire like this.

Most of it was blue, like they were staring through waves underwater, flickering like ocean currents. But even real fire burned red through the hell flame, turning the light of the area warmer.

The lighting was the only warm thing as a shiver ran up Seoho’s spine, taking a moment as the sight washed over them.

The area they walked into (thought “area” made it sound small) looked like the inner workings of a beehive. Caves and openings dotted the walls of a monstrous cavern that stretched upwards and downwards as far as they could see- hellfire clinging to walls and paths, creating rivers and lakes, in place of puddles.

Real, red fire burned in torches scattered along the walls.

From each opening in the walls- presumably all leading to tunnel systems like the one they had just run through- there was a hewn stone sloping path leading in either direction, clinging to the walls, barely wide enough for two people to walk abreast.

The paths led from one opening to another, some leading to drop offs, and some had crumbled in large chunks that made them seem impossible to leap across.

It was an entire city network sewn into the side of stone and rock, everything dark black or icy blue, making Seoho feel slightly dizzy- like staring at moving ground while you were standing still, something unsettling about it.

Fire burned everywhere.

Seoho squinted, trying to see through the flickering shadows and dark corners that light didn’t reach, looking for movement, for enemies… He couldn’t see anything, though.

“There’s still no one,” Dongju breathed, sounding like he was afraid raising his voice would make the ground crumble beneath them. They didn’t actually know that it wouldn’t… “Where _are_ they?”

No one knew anything about the Hellscape.

People who went into it never came back. It didn’t matter what expeditions had been sent, what powers those people had, no matter how strong or how suited to escaping the underground…

And now, they knew it was because the Hellscape did something to your powers.

He glanced back at Youngjo who had less strain written across his face as his wings tucked tight against his back, but he was most definitely paler than normal. The others also held themselves stiffly, physically restraining the urge to use the powers they had wielded like secondary limbs.

Would using the powers just cause pain? Would it eventually kill you? Would it get worse with more power expended? Maybe the hell creatures fed off of them or something?

No answers. Still helpless.

Still powerless to help Geonhak.

“Let’s move on,” Keonhee muttered, glancing above them, but all they could see was the bottom of the path from the level above them, sticking out from the earth wall.

“Which way?” Youngjo questioned, stepping forward and glancing to either side, along the path that led in opposite directions from the opening they’d stepped from.

To the left, the path seemed to lead further upwards, and to the right, it seemed to dip down. Whether it continued in those directions, it was impossible to tell.

Everyone kept eyes out for creatures as they stepped out into the open.

Seoho chewed the inside of his cheek roughly, eyes hard.

“We’re here for Geonhak,” he said, voice coming out a bit rough at the sudden, verbal reminder of what they were doing. “Where are they most likely to have him?”

He stepped close to the edge of the platform stretching out from the cave opening, peering down into the abyss that grew too dark to see after about twenty levels, even with the blue and red light reaching down.

“Some sort of prison?” Hwanwoong suggested, frowning hard.

“It’d be more likely to be down, right?” Keonhee questioned, joining Seoho to look over the edge. “Farther from the surface.”

Seoho looked upwards, unable to tell if the black ceiling was just shadow or the actual top of the cavern.

“What if all of these are prison cells?” Youngjo asked stiffly, gesturing to the caves. “We saw that there are ones with doors that… that only open to demonics? Activated by hellfire?” he questioned, glancing at Seoho. “It’d make people unable to get out.”

“But there were dark elves in those,” Dongju pointed out. “And tunnels leading to the surface.”

“Maybe only the lower levels are prisons,” Hwanwoong hazarded. “Or maybe only certain ones hold prisons- obviously, not ones with tunnels.”

They had no information.

Not even a clue of where to begin.

“Based on pure logic and luck, down in probably out best bet,” Seoho muttered, looking down the path that descended slightly. “Until we can find someone to interrogate, we just have to pick a direction.”

It made his skin crawl, that fact that any one of these caves could contain Geonhak, all of them just running past him without even realizing.

How long had he been down here?

Since the rumors that he had died began? After that?

Seoho shook his head, listening to the others give consent to descend, and began walking down the path to avoid thinking anymore. He couldn’t think right now, he only had enough mental capacity to _do._

It was slow going, climbing down- both for the fact that some parts of it were steep enough that they were forced to cling to the wall for fear of losing their footing, and that they had to pause before every cave opening to ensure no creatures were going to come bursting out.

But still, they saw no one- not even at a distance.

“Maybe they only come out for raids?” Hwanwoong murmured, voice barely echoing on the stone.

“Or maybe it’s their version of nighttime,” Dongju whispered, though it sounded like a non-serious suggestion.

“I don’t want to see what this place will look like with them roaming around,” Youngjo shivered, glancing around, already imagining dark elves crawling around like an ant hill.

There was no solution, so they stopped talking, Seoho walking with his hand tense at his side, prepared to throw an attack if necessary, trying not to look back too often, trusting that Keonhee at the rear would alert any hind attack.

Seoho tried to keep count of how many layers they descended, all of it wrapping around the outer wall of the cavern in winding circles- he lost count, but Youngjo didn’t.

“Thirty-seven,” he murmured when Seoho asked.

Seoho didn’t know how long it had been. Hwanwoong had apparently kept track.

“I lost count a couple of times,” he muttered, “but we’re upwards of two hours at this point.”

They continued on. After level forty-three, the paths began to narrow further- some parts forcing them to walk sideways and shuffle- and also grew more unkept, pieces broken off in larger and large chunks until they were having to step over spaces that dropped into darkness.

After level fifty, it was almost turned into a game of hopscotch, the time crawling past four hours by Hwanwoong’s count, time working against them as they tried not to die from stones that grew loose under their weight and shivered as they leapt over cracks and gaps.

“This fucking sucks,” Dongju hissed, clinging to Youngjo’s hand that had yanked him back from the edge he nearly fall back into after jumping over, everyone freezing for a moment to ensure no one else followed.

Seoho looked down, but it seemed like the farther down they went, the darker it became. Even their path was growing darker, less torches and hellfire clinging to the walls they squeezed along.

Swallowing, he held out a hand, biting his cheek.

His hellfire had opened the door before. Hellfire _did_ things down here. He didn’t want to use it and accidentally do something or cause an alert… 

But if they continued on in the dark, they would probably end up making it to the bottom the hard way.

Holding his breath, Seoho opened his palm, a ball of hell flame glowing and casting their path into sharp blue light, almost making the temperature seem to drop ten degrees.

In a moment of both desperation and helplessness, Seoho held his hand over the edge of the path and dropped the ball of flame over the side. They all watched it fall, giving a brief moment of light to previously hidden levels, falling and falling until-

At a distance, they could barely make out the flame hitting ground, stopping and burning in a little ring of light before dying out without anything to fuel it.

“Thank fuck, there’s an actual bottom,” Hwanwoong breathed, leaning against their wall.

“Let’s go,” Seoho said, bringing out another ball of light and holding it open to light their path as best he could. “I don’t…”

It wasn’t until they had stopped, taken a moment to breathe, that Seoho realized there were goosebumps on his skin. It was cold down here, the kind of icy chill that only existed beneath ground, but not the kind that brought goosebumps.

Seoho trudged on. “I don’t know how long we’ll be alone.”

They continued in silence, Seoho trying not to think too much because it was only distracting him, but…

Seoho had spent his life fighting dark creatures. And while dark elves had only been in those numbers a rare few times, Seoho knew that they were… different.

Obviously, they were different. They were the top tier of hell creature: intelligent, not mindless. They could think and speak and build-

Seoho had come to the conclusion that this hive they were walking through only contained dark elves. No other hell creatures would be kept away for so long without roaming.

But regardless of the differences in intelligence and planning, Seoho knew that he could…

He remembered the first time he’d faced a dark elf, a sickening shiver traveling up his spine.

The next time, with a shiver nearly making him vomit.

With Geonhak, a shudder that nearly made him sick-

Seoho knew it had something to do with being demonic. That, regardless of Geonhak’s vehemency that they were nothing alike, there was a connection between Seoho and the Hellscape, with dark elves…

Dark elves ruled the Hellscape.

Seoho was practically a part of it.

He could practically feel Geonhak’s sharp, stinging slap to the back of his head that didn’t have the non-painful, playful quality his abuse usually did- his opinion on the subject too serious to warrant a soft hit. The fire that burned in his eyes when he glared at Seoho, when the topic would pass in common conversation.

Seoho knew he wasn’t evil.

But it was a fact of what he was… that he was of the Hellscape. If being demonic didn’t prove it, then being able to sense when dark elves were coming definitely did.

Geonhak would kick his ass if he heard Seoho thinking about it.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. Geonhak _would_ kick his ass. When Seoho and the others found him and figured out some miracle to get the fuck out of here… Geonhak would kick his ass, and Seoho may not even beat him up in return for it.

Just this once.

They were somewhere on level sixty-two, in the middle of carefully leaping over a slightly-concerningly-large gap in the path, each one of them needing to catch the other to keep them from falling backwards… when Seoho felt the goosebumps across his skin raise up in a disorienting wave.

He shook off the shudder, looking across the cavern at the caves, eyes widening.

“We have to hide,” he breathed, seeing nothing yet, but he suddenly took off down the path, the others confused and slightly frightened at the sudden order, but following just as quickly without question.

Seoho only went as far as the nearest cave.

“We’re probably about to fight, but I’ll handle it,” he said, both a promise and a warning- throwing a glare back at them, daring any of them to try and use their powers. 

He ducked into the first tunnel, running only as far as it took to find the first door. The ground underneath them suddenly felt as if it was shaking, like the faintest of earthquakes. Like a rude upstairs neighbor. 

It was entirely true that they were probably about to make a mistake, but Seoho’s hand erupted with hellfire that he pressed against the door, hearing sounds beginning to echo through the tunnel, like an echo bouncing around a hundred times.

Blue flame burst to life at the bottom of the door, like it had before, racing upwards until the barrier had been burned away.

The five of them stared into the faces of a group of dark elves who froze- the foremost elf holding his own hand full of hellfire, prepared to exit the room.

The elves hadn’t expected them, but Seoho had been prepared for someone to be inside the room, shoving both hands forward as blue fire consumed the room in a monstrous _foom._

The point, however, was to get out of the hallway, and Seoho rushed forward, using the flames like a wall between the two groups. His team didn’t need to be told to hurry inside, looking back at the door as Seoho’s hair flickered with the icy air radiated off the hell flame.

He dropped it for a moment, more concerned with cutting them off from the rest of the Hellscape. He didn’t know if the door simply replaced itself, but in a burst of hopeful panic, he pressed hellfire to the wall beside the arched doorway.

Flame burned down from the ceiling, the door reappearing and sealing them in.

Seoho whipped back around, the others at least not using their powers as Hwanwoong slammed a foot into a dark elf’s knee, making it crumple as he leapt away, out of reach of the claws that snatched at him.

Seoho… was really fucking fed up with these fucking elves and everything they’d done.

He dropped his hands, flicking his wrist as the hell energy sharpened into a rough knife in each hand. Seoho had never used two before, and he was sure he’d be able to keep the shape even less time than normal, but he still attacked with even more anger than he ever had.

He was so fucking tired of these monsters and everything they’d taken from him. From Geonhak.

“Leave one alive,” Youngjo called as the others slowly extracted themselves from the battle, prepared to leap in to aid at a moment’s notice, however.

Seoho was sure that nothing would be harder than willingly letting one of these live, even temporarily. He was vaguely aware of the fact that the rumble in the earth had grown deeper, more prominent, as if it were right outside their door.

Seoho sliced across an elf’s neck, spinning and burying the energy knife into another’s chest just as it fell apart into wisps of energy, no longer able to be held together by willpower.

Seoho merely planted his hand on the chest of one elf, burning a hole through its chest, and snapped the neck of another. He almost hadn’t realized he was holding the final dark elf, his hand drawn back to break through its sternum before he remembered to leave one alive.

He was breathing heavily, but unharmed as he held still for a moment, gathering his self-control once more as the dark elf remained completely still, like Seoho might forget he was there.

He lowered his hand slowly, taking deep breaths as the others slowly began to approach from behind.

Seoho’s grip on the elf’s neck didn’t loosen, but the elf didn’t struggle like others had- he fell immobile, like playing dead. Seoho knew that even dark elves had those in their ranks that weren’t used to being bested- that crumbled like weak brick as soon as they realized they didn’t have the upper hand, turning desperate, instead of angry.

Seoho was sure there was hellfire in his eyes, with the way the elf stared at him like he knew exactly why Seoho hadn’t killed him yet, as if he was silently asking why him.

“You know who I am,” Seoho managed, voice shaking with anger- and only anger, as far as the elf was concerned, all other emotions carefully tucked away behind it.

The elf said nothing for a moment, staring at Seoho with its chest heaving.

When Seoho’s grip tightened on its neck, the elf nodded once, sharp and quick, like maybe Seoho wouldn’t be able to tell.

Seoho’s stomach rolled at the confirmation, despite knowing that this made their work easier.

He waited, breathing for a moment before trusting himself to speak- so much anger and hatred and fear trying to claw through his chest. His saving grace was the fact his hand didn’t shake.

“Then you know why I’m here.” 

The elf, once more, stayed silent. This time, it was for a moment too long, and Seoho drew it closer, teeth grinding together with a lack of patience to play fucking games-

It nodded, reaching up to clutch at his wrist, though it didn’t yank and claw, as if it knew it was pointless.

Seoho remembered that first elf, years ago… who had called him so pathetically weak for a demonic. This elf didn’t seem to agree.

“ _So tell me where he is,_ ” Seoho hissed, face so close to the elf’s, he could almost taste the rancid breath.

“I would never-“ The elf cut himself off, staring at Seoho and weighing his odds. He swallowed. “I- I should never betray my kind-“

Seoho turned and slammed the elf into the wall, hearing the growl of pain from the creature who finally tightened his grip on Seoho uselessly.

“Well, I’m sort of known for betraying my kind, so I really don’t give a shit about your patriotism,” Seoho snapped, voice rough with something that was not anger, but could be passed off for it.

He felt like his heart was beating, but shaking too, like it would shatter any moment.

“Kill m-me,” it choked out, trying for bravery that didn’t meet its eyes. Seoho lucked out on finding a coward. “And you’ll l-lose your only ch-chance of finding him-“

“I thought you would never betray your kind?” Seoho questioned darkly, head tilted. He didn’t let the elf defend himself. “Here’s where your bargain runs into an issue,” he hissed roughly. “ _I don’t have time for this._ ”

He could feel the others standing behind him. He could see the elf’s eyes flickering back at them, and Seoho jerked its head to get its gaze back on him.

“So, if you’re going to make me play games, I’m going to just kill you. And then I’ll find someone else. I’ll work my way through every fucking creature down here until they stop wasting my time.”

Seoho… was somehow so tired and more wired than he had been since they arrived down here.

He felt like he was dying, in the most electric way.

“So you have by the time I stop speaking-“ He tightened his grip until the elf’s eyes widened- “to tell me where the fuck he is before I find someone else who will-“

“I- I don’t know!”

Seoho stopped crushing his neck, making the elf hiss and spit angrily, but Seoho gave him five seconds to get it out.

“I- Your dog is-“

Seoho’s hand twitched, making it choke, shaking its head harshly.

“It’s high l-level,” it rasped. “I don’t kn-know where they put him. O-Only cer-certain groups are allowed to know-“

“But you know where prisoners are usually kept,” Seoho snapped, resisting the urge to hit him against the wall again. “You may not know exactly where he is, but you know where he’s being kept.”

No secrets were that tight. Not even down here.

The elf was silent, clearly having its bluff called, clearly trying to think of a way out.

“Is it on the bottom level?” Seoho demanded, a ball of hellfire appearing in his unoccupied hand, slowly taking the shape of a knife.

The elf swallowed. “Yes.”

“Is _he_ on that bottom level?” His fingernails dug into his palm. “Don’t act as if you don’t know,” he hissed.

The elf looked as if a knife was already buried in his chest. “ _Yes_ ,” he grit out, like the words were painful.

Seoho didn’t immediately pierce his chest with the knife.

“Why did you take him to begin with?” he demanded, voice dark enough to even surprise him.

“I don’t kn-“

When Seoho’s grip tightened, the lie stopped on the elf’s tongue.

“Why _else_?” It hissed, expression twisted in discomfort… but like all the others, he still found enough confidence to laugh, throat spasming under Seoho’s hand. “Because it’s _funny_. He’s funny. The two of you and your entire existence is the biggest joke of the-“

Seoho did bury the knife in his chest this time.

He let the elf drop to the ground, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing harshly through his nose to rid himself of the dirt and sludge crawling through his veins. He felt dirty. He always felt so fucking dirty around these creatures that looked at them and knew about them-

Who mocked them.

Who took Geonhak for no other reason than it was _funny_ to them-

Hwanwoong’s hand on his shoulder didn’t startle him, nor did it do much to stop the thick beating of his heart, but it was enough to remind him that they didn’t have time for this.

“I highly doubt its still empty out there,” Seoho muttered, turning away from the elf. “Dark elves are going to be swarming out there.”

The others apparently also came to that conclusion, given the ruckus they’d heard.

“It’s quieted down,” Dongju muttered, looking back at the door. “They may all be out on the paths, or heading somewhere specific.”

“At least we picked the right direction,” Keonhee sighed, looking relieved. “We’re almost to the bottom, compared to where we were. There’s still a long way down, but…” He paused. “Should we wait here until we think they’re gone?”

Seoho pressed his lips together, shutting his eyes tightly to regain balance.

“We don’t know how long they’ll be out there,” Youngjo murmured gently. “We may be here for a while.”

“But if we walk out into a war zone, we’re as good as dead,” Hwanwoong argued quietly. “We’re basically helpless here, aside from what little we can do hand-to-hand. Seoho can’t take on a fucking army at once.”

Part of Seoho wanted to argue that he probably could, with how turbulent his blood felt. Something kept simmering in his blood, like anger, like hatred, like fear… but it didn’t fit into any of those categories.

He was sure Geonhak would have some stupid color for it, nameless as it was.

Seoho’s heart twisted in his chest, making him feel like he’d fallen on his own knife, his expression clearly doing something because when he forced his eyes open, everyone was staring at him with concern.

“You’re not lying, right?” Keonhee questioned, hands stiff at his sides. “It’s not hurting you to use your powers, is it?”

“No,” Seoho assured him quickly, summoning a little flame and showing them. “No, it’s not my powers, I’m just…” He glanced back at the dark elves’ bodies, lips thinning.

As much as if may be the safe option… Seoho couldn’t bring himself to wait here for hours until those elves disappeared.

“It might be best to split up,” he murmured quietly, brows drawing down. “No one will probably come in this room, and I can move quickly-“

He stopped himself before any of the others could break in, though the disagreement was written across their faces. He clenched his fists tightly, feeling helpless once more.

He couldn’t leave the rest of them here on the off chance someone might not come in. If they did, they’d be in more danger than even Seoho’s anxious heart was willing to risk. He couldn’t risk the others just to get Geonhak…

He wouldn’t do that.

“We’ll all go,” Youngjo said firmly, voice sounding as if he actually knew what was happening, rather than guessing as much as any of them. This was why he was leader.

Because even if Seoho had been leading the charge here most of the way, he was not a leader. He was frantic and lost and probably going to get them all killed with rash, stupid decisions. It was clear that he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

Youngjo, though… Youngjo was good at making you feel like at least someone was in control. Even if it wasn’t true.

“We stick together,” he said firmly. “And we’ll be careful. Send one person out to scout outside the tunnel, the rest of us will follow.”

Seoho didn’t know how they would even begin to avoid being seen.

But he nodded, knowing that it was the only way for everyone to stay safe.

“I guess coming with you wasn’t the best choice, in the end,” Keonhee chuckled, looking regretful. “We’re sort of just ending up like dead weights.”

Seoho glared at him. “First of all, there’s no way we could have predicted the Hellscape was like this,” he snapped. “And second of all, you’re not useless down here- We took hand-to-hand combat classes for a reason.”

They were not a weight against him, no matter what Seoho’s anxieties might want to suggest about him continuing alone. That was for _their_ safety, not for a lack of ability to keep up with him. That was fear talking, not logic.

Logically… Seoho would have likely already lost his mind down here without them. From the moment he stepped out from that first room, he would have been lost in every possible way.

“I’ll go check outside,” he said, dropping his eyes while Keonhee stared slightly at the vehement excuse, eyes softening as Seoho passed.

The others stood back, hidden out of sight from the door as Seoho pressed a flaming hand to it, watching it burn away as his other hand prepared to launch an attack against however many dark elves he found himself faced with.

The tunnel hall was empty. It was far from silent, though. At a distance, echoing through the rock and stone, the sound of movement and high pitches chatter and cackles. He held his breath, body tensed as he stepped outside the room.

The hallway remained empty, no one deeper inside, and Seoho pressed his back to the wall, shuffling along it, watching for if an elf would appear in the exit, but it remained open. When he reached the curve of the wall that lead out into the open, he peered around it slowly.

The paths that clung to the walls and cave openings were, indeed, reminiscent of an ant hill- dark elves walking around them in clusters or alone as far up and down as he could see.

There were startling little of them, however, given the amount of noise Seoho could hear. It must be coming from the tunnels, from the ground level, from anywhere else he couldn’t see.

The paths, however… were surprisingly open.

They would be out in the open, however, for anyone to see them the moment they left the tunnel. He grit his teeth. They may just have to move quickly. Maybe hellfire would help disguise them. It didn’t seem like the dark elves were concerned with anything but moving forward, not looking around.

Seoho slipped back to the room where the others were gathered.

“We’ll have to move quick, and we’ll be out in the open,” he warned under his breath, glancing back. “But we can’t afford to wait for them to clear out again. It doesn’t look like they’re looking around, so we just have to be subtle.”

They all nodded grimly, tensed but eyes not showing fear. Creeping around without knowing where they were going was one thing. They had a destination now, and a goal they were familiar with: fight a dark elf if it got too close.

They all pressed their backs to the rough stone of the wall, shuffling along, Seoho at the lead as he pressed to the curve of the tunnel, peering out to the left and carefully leaning further out to see further up the path-

Claws suddenly fisted in his hair, twisting with an intent to break, and Seoho whipped around to the right, a high-pitched hiss sounding near his ear as another set of needle claws laid over his throat, immediately breaking skin-

Seoho tore himself away. Or tried to.

All he managed to do was jerk the elf with him, rather than dislodged it. He gripped the hand trying to tear his esophagus out, body thrashing to get the claws out of his throat-

The elf screeched, though it hardly started before it was cut off as several things happened at once.

The elf’s legs began to flail. One of them caught Seoho in the back of the knee.

Seoho’s knees buckled, sending him stumbling. Someone’s hands grabbed the back of Seoho’s shirt.

Someone was grabbing the elf as Seoho shut his eyes, feeling blood dripping from the claws still lodged in his neck.

One of Seoho’s feet, scrambling for purchase, suddenly caught the edge of stone, slipping off and meeting air.

And then Seoho was tipping, with no way to even try and stop his fall as his other leg slipped from the side of the path.

Seoho and the elf fell.

The hand on him didn’t let go, Hwanwoong’s panicked voice crying out as his shirt stretched, but… it was clear Hwanwoong fell with him.

In the sensation of free fall, Seoho forced his eyes open, looking over as they plummeted, and saw Dongju holding onto the elf, eyes shit tight as he yanked the elf’s neck.

Seoho looked upwards, feeling claws release from his neck, the light rushing passed them at an unimaginable speed, and Seoho didn’t… he didn’t know what to do.

He shut his eyes, trying to think, but his powers were not created to help in a situation like this-

Something suddenly jarred him painfully, but nearly as painful as he thought slamming into the ground was supposed to be- every part of him suddenly stopping, and Seoho chose to believe that maybe hitting the ground was supposed to be as painless as that.

He did not think of Geonhak.

He had no time to.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho woke up staring at Geonhak with barely enough light to see him with.

Geonhak’s face was covered in dust, and Seoho vaguely remembered a collapsing building and an innocent being carried between the two of them.

His head was in Geonhak’s lap and his lungs felt coated with dust.

And everything felt like he’d been hit by a truck.

“Don’t move,” Geonhak said without the sharpness to his tone to imply that Seoho had been _trying_ to move, and Seoho could very much attest to the fact that he had no intentions of moving.

He stared passed Geonhak for a moment, breathing deeply, which only made him cough, but he saw a pair of beams crisscrossing above them, and what looked like the entire building being kept from collapsing on them, only held by those two structure points.

The sound of ragged breathing sounded beside them, which Seoho assumed was the innocent they had been in the process of saving.

Thank God they were at least alive.

“What… happened?” Seoho questioned, frowning. “I thought we were almost out…”

Geonhak looked like there was only something very minimal keeping him from slapping Seoho, but he refrained which Seoho was grateful for because he liked to actually understand why he was being slapped.

“We almost were, but the floor gave way,” Geonhak muttered, and Seoho realized one of his hands was pressed to his temple firmly, which was hurting quite a bit. “We fell, and you threw a shield up.”

Seoho’s tired eyes drifted from the barely-held-up ceiling to Geonhak covered in dry wall and dirt. “Seems like I fucked it up, then,” he rasped, coughing dust from his lungs.

Geonhak’s lips thinned. “You hit the ground first,” he muttered, sounding angry with him. “Something hit your head, but you still managed to get the shield up before everything crushed us. It fell when you passed out, but…” He glanced up at the precarious ceiling. “It let things fall in such a way they haven’t crushed us yet.”

“My head hurts.”

“That would be the very excessive bleeding, dumbass,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Why are you being mean?” Seoho questioned, frowning petulantly. “I saved your ass.”

“You hit the ground, passed out, and by the time everything settled, you were lying in a pool of your own blood,” Geonhak said sharply, voice cold. “I wasn’t particularly happy with the thought of you dying trying to protect us.”

Seoho closed his eyes when it started getting too hard to keep them open- dry and itching and struggling to keep from going cross eyed. “I mean, that’s our job, isn’t it?” he questioned just to be annoying.

“Then I wasn’t happy with the thought of you dying three feet away from me,” Geonhak muttered, knees shifting under Seoho’s head restlessly.

Seoho was quiet for a moment. “Anyone coming to get us?”

“Must be,” Geonhak said after a pause, the hand pressed to Seoho’s wound stiffening. “The battle went quiet a little while ago. They’ll notice we’re gone eventually.”

Seoho opened his eyes, staring up at Geonhak who was staring off, like he was waiting for the walls to move on their own, a crease between his brows. Seoho’s lips twitched. “You’re just going to sit here and fret like I’m dying still?”

Geonhak looked down at him sharply. His lips thinned. His brow pinched. All signs that he had something he was about to say.

Seoho knew that if it was the other way around, he’d be kicking Geonhak’s ass, too.

But Geonhak merely rolled his eyes with a huff. “It’s nothing.”

Seoho hummed, staring off. “That usually means someone had an emotion that fucked you up.”

As much as he tried to convince Seoho that he was, Geonhak was not immune to the emotions he felt from others. Common or background ones were easy to ignore, but in the heat of battle, it was hard to feel emotions that were like that at all. Seoho knew that it had more impact that just a headache passing through.

Geonhak merely hummed, ignoring the statement and not answering. Which usually meant it had something to do with _Seoho’s_ emotions.

Seoho tried to think back to what he had been thinking as he fell, the moment the floor gave in.

He could remember staring up as he fell, seeing Geonhak still holding onto the boy they had been carrying between them.

He couldn’t remember what emotions he’d felt exactly… but he remembered thinking that… he needed to get a shield around them. The shield hadn’t been designed to stop their fall, but to keep the rest of the collapsing building at bay.

He remembered hitting the ground, throwing up a shield behind Geonhak and the boy- Geonhak having enough footing to land without severely injuring them. The shield went up, and Seoho didn’t remember anything past that.

What emotion might have been associated with that?

Maybe fear, but Seoho hadn’t had time to be afraid, or to be scared. Or even worried, really. He’d only had time to think that he couldn’t… _wouldn’t_ let the building crush them. He worked on instinct, more than thought.

So what emotion…

He didn’t say anything else, though, sensing a bit of turbulence in Geonhak as they laid there.

An hour later, Seoho was considerably paler and colder from the blood loss, but someone from the battle phased through the wreckage into their little bubble of safety.

She took Seoho first, her power affecting him as well as they walked straight through solid objects (or, well, she carried him through).

He still wasn’t quite sure what emotion Geonhak would have felt. All Seoho could remember was trying to protect him.

Them.

~~~~~~~

Seoho realized very quickly that he was not dead.

He wasn’t even on the ground.

His body jarred violently, and when he looked up, feeling them still falling, though considerably slower, he found Youngjo’s wings out, both of his hands wrapped around Keonhee’s arm- Keonhee’s other hand holding onto Hwanwoong who held Seoho, who was gripped by the elf that Dongju clung to.

Youngjo’s face was ashen, and Seoho saw a trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. 

“ _Youngjo-_ “

Seoho looked down, the ground quickly approaching, but not at terminal velocity. He tried to see, but the darkness covering the ground was slow to clear, hiding how far they exactly had until the ground.

The twisted expression on Youngjo’s face was not just struggling under the weight of five bodies, but a vicious mixture of physical strain and whatever the _hell_ this place kept doing to their powers-

“Youngjo, _let go_!” Dongju yelled, eyes wide with horror at the blood trickling down Youngjo’s pale face.

Seoho could tell that it was not Youngjo’s choice when they suddenly started falling again.

Something in the older’s expression broke, a cough ripping from this throat that sent blood flying as his wings stopped flapping, curling in like an injured bird as they all plummeted again.

They all cried out- falling through darkness.

They fell only for a moment before hitting rough ground, hard enough to bruise and break skin with scrapes, but nowhere near deadly.

Seoho barely hit the ground before he was shoving himself up, ignoring the ache in his bones as he scanned the area, holding up a sphere of hellfire.

The darkness seemed… thicker down here. The hellfire only showed him a few feet in front of them, the shadows seeming like a physical barrier, not allowing light to pierce it so easily.

Whipping around, he threw light over the others all gathered around Youngjo who was curled on the ground, breathing raggedly as his wings twitched weakly, like there was an instinct to fly away from the danger, despite flight being the danger.

Hwanwoong and Keonhee helped turn him over gently, trying to see his face. Dongju held Youngjo’s wings in place firmly to keep them from moving as Seoho approached with he light.

The blue glow did nothing to alleviate the ashen pallor to Youngjo’s skin, nor the alarming starkness of the blood around his mouth, sounding like he was breathing through sand.

But he was breathing, eyes forcing open, a little hazy but coherent.

“’s okay,” he assured them in a shredded voice, lips twitching like a smile. “Stopped hurting.”

“ _You coughed up_ -“

Dongju’s exclamation was silenced by Seoho pressing a hand to his mouth, gesturing for him to remain quiet, a disquiet in Seoho’s chest at the fact they couldn’t see around them.

Dongju looked prepared to bite Seoho for the interruption, but he lowered his voice wisely.

“You coughed up _blood_ ,” he hissed, glancing at Hwanwoong before looking back. “That was stupid. Why the fuck did you-“

“And hitting the ground was smarter?” Youngjo questioned, shaking his head, wincing, before smiling like it was fine. “The pain’s gone,” he assured them, lifting a hand and grabbing onto Keonhee’s arm. “Now I just feel tired…”

He used Keonhee to tug himself up.

Or he tried to.

He didn’t manage to actually move until Keonhee helped him up, Hwanwoong supporting him from behind, expression obviously distressed as his eyes tracked over Youngjo’s weak frame.

“Yeah, that’s probably death setting in,” Dongju muttered, glaring at the older.

“It’s definitely worse than the first time we used our powers,” Keonhee said quietly, physically supporting Youngjo so he didn’t fall back, still trying to even his breathing. “We should wait a minute. We don’t know what it did to you.”

Hwanwoong’s hands twisted together, lips pressed tightly. “I… I could try to heal-“

“No,” Youngjo said firmly, though gentle, as he shook his head. “No, then we’d just be trading one messed up person for another.” He took a breath deep enough to make them all worry, but he released it slowly. “Just give me a second to get my breath back.”

It was very clear that Youngjo needed more than just to get his breath back. There was still blood trickling down his mouth, making Seoho’s stomach clench in fear.

Hwanwoong didn’t look happy at sitting by when he would usually be putting them back together enough for the fight to continue on.

Seoho suddenly felt like he was Geonhak. On their first fight together, hanging in a crater with Seoho holding onto a whip of flame… and yelling that he was crazy, that he should let go, why are you hurting yourself just to save me…

He shook his head gently.

“I don’t like this, though,” Youngjo murmured weakly, and Seoho found him staring out into he darkness, also noticing how it refused to part for the light in Seoho’s hand. “It feels different down here.”

Seoho’s head was in a million different places, so he frowned, not quite understanding how it was different, aside from the lack of light. But as he paused, trying to feel what Youngjo was feeling, he realized that it was… quiet. The buzz of the dark elves’ hive was silent.

The crackle from the hell flame, the echo of voices and steps against stone… none of it permeated their little bubble.

The reason Youngjo’s breathing seemed so loud was because there was no other sound to combat it. Like the darkness around them was a sound barrier, blocking out anything but their own breaths and voices.

It seemed… stagnant. The piercing chill of underground that they had been wrapped in was suddenly… dull. Not like an icy breeze, but… as if something had removed the warmth inside their bodies, giving them nothing to guard themselves with.

The chill suddenly felt like it was inside them.

Seoho’s skin felt chilled, but his blood that usually burned was suddenly frigid.

“Let’s move on,” Youngjo said, glancing around, unsettled. “I don’t like this.”

“You can’t just-“

“If you can move without killing yourself… we should,” Seoho muttered, looking around them, wishing that he had literally _any_ information.

“Seoho,” Hwanwoong protested, glancing at Youngjo worriedly-

“Now that we’re here, we need to be fast,” Youngjo assuaged, using Hwanwoong as another crutch to stand with- both he and Dongju grabbing an arm and slowly lifting him to his feet.

They didn’t mention how Youngjo turned slightly grey as he stood, teeth grinding together.

“It doesn’t seem like anything else noticed us fall, but…” he trailed off.

The pain and discomfort in his eyes was momentarily overwhelmed with concern as he stared at the darkness.

“We can’t stay here,” Seoho filled in, Youngjo nodding slowly in agreement.

As they all took their first step- Youngjo supported between Dongju and Keonhee- Seoho tried not to think about Geonhak actually being down here.

Here, where there didn’t seem to be any light, any way to breathe easily, any reprieve from… whatever that eerie chill running down his spine was.

_“I can’t stand small spaces,” Geonhak huffed as they crawled through a collapsed hallway- sturdy and safe enough, so long as they crawled and didn’t knock anything. “Especially when its dark.”_

_Seoho would have glanced back if there was enough room, lips pressing together as he forced himself not to stop moving. “You’re bringing this up now?” he demanded, less in annoyance and more in demands to why he didn’t mention it before._

_“I’ve learned to ignore it,” he responded easily, like that was just something people did. “The therapist they made me see when I younger said it’s a trauma thing. I slept with the light on for a long time. But I figured out how to ignore it so that I at least don’t start panicking like I used to. I think it’s probably got something to do with the tunnel I had to crawl through back then.”_

_Seoho still didn’t pause, knowing it was probably better not to delay their exit. But he frowned deeper. “Why are you telling me all this?” he questioned, not unkindly, but it was always hard to completely get rid of the edge to his voice._

_Geonhak knew what he meant, though._

_“Because if I don’t keep talking, I’m probably going to throw up,” Geonhak admitted, voice calm, though with that statement, Seoho could hear the tension running through it._

_How long had they been crawling through the hallway? A few minutes, perhaps._

_Seoho would have suggested that they turn around if not for the fact that they probably had just as far to go forward as they did backwards. He opened his mouth, trying to find something to say other than ‘Don’t throw up.’_

_“Okay, well, it shouldn’t be that much farther,” Seoho said, trying not to let concern taint his voice, though it probably sounded horrendously fake, since Geonhak knew as well as he did that they had no idea how far until the exit._

_“I’m okay,” Geonhak told him, a verbal eye-roll. “I’m just distracting myself. I’m not about to start panicking, idiot.”_

_‘Not panicking’ and ‘being okay’ were very different things._

_Seoho stared down at his hands that he crawled on, the dim lighting barely allowing him to see them. With a quiet movement, they both were surrounded in blue glowing energy as they pressed against the ground, casting everything eerie azure._

_“Better?” Seoho questioned, crawling just a little faster. “Or worse?”_

_It was a very specific kind of blue, after all._

_Geonhak was silent for a moment, making Seoho prepared to snuff out the flames, but then he spoke, softer than Seoho may have ever heard._

_“Better,” he practically whispered, an odd tone to his voice. “Thanks.”_

_That was an odd word between them. But Seoho ignored it in favor of believing Geonhak and working on getting them out of there a little faster._

“If he’s down here, I’m going to kick his ass,” Seoho muttered, making the glowing orb bigger, trying to cast more light as they walked through shadows like fog. “And if he’s not down here… I’m going to kill him.”

He wasn’t sure if anyone else could hear him, or if they would respond if they could. They had gotten used to Seoho’s mumbled threats to the air over the year. 

It wasn’t Seoho’s fault that the only thing Geonhak left him with was the air to curse out.

“We’ll find him,” Hwanwoong assured him, not naming a location they would find him in. The determination in his voice was appreciated, though.

Seoho couldn’t look back at the team walking behind him. His expression and heart were too unsteady.

Geonhak had better be down here.

Seoho wished that there had never been a reason he would be down here.

He wished Geonhak had never left.

He wished he’d never been stupid enough to tell the truth on that report.

He wished he’d said something more to get Geonhak to stay- he didn’t know what he could have said, what he could have admitted… But he wished he’d thought of some magic word that would have made him stay.

He wished he could go back to a year ago, before everything fell apart…

Seoho wished… that Geonhak had understood why Seoho had been terrified of him leaving.

He wished Geonhak would have understood why Seoho begged him to stay.

Hell… Seoho wished _he_ knew why he’d begged Geonhak to stay.

He wished he were brave enough to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise our love interests will meet next chapter! It feels weird keeping them apart to so long ㅠㅠㅠ 
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed it! I had a lot of fun writing this chapter~~ 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter!!   
> Thank you so much for reading, lovelies! I really appreciate it so much!!! ^u^   
> -SS


	4. Water the Earth to Assuage the Flame, We Are Nothing but Fire on Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our couple is reunited!! I’ve been waiting for this scene!!  
> I’m so glad I got this one finished on time!!  
> >u<  
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter! I had so much fun writing it!!! 
> 
> Thank you so much to those of you who comment and kudos and read >w< It really does mean the world to me! You guys are so amazing!!!!! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Stay safe, lovelies!  
> -SS  
> (TW: depictions of torture aftermath, blood, and vomiting) Read safe, lovelies!

The darkness was slow to part before the flame held in Seoho’s hand.

Only Keonhee grabbing him by the back of his shirt stopped him from crashing into a set of vertical bars that suddenly appeared before him.

Seoho couldn’t see what was on the other side, darkness filling in the gaps between the bars, like there was nothing but an endless black tunnel on the other side. They were reminiscent of jail cell bars, making Seoho’s mouth dry up as he squashed down every flicker of hope that threatened to light in his chest.

“Well, this certainly looks like where they’d keep prisoners,” Dongju muttered, adjusting Youngjo’s weight he was supporting now that they were standing still.

His tone was lighthearted. All of their eyes held such fear, though.

Uncertainty.

Every step they took was uncharted and unplotted. Anything could happen at any moment, and they would be helpless to anticipate it. Seoho felt like every molecule of air was a pair of eyes, staring at the back of his head and waiting.

He looked the bars up and down- stretching up to the outcropping of stone about seven feet high, stretching down to the ground they stood on. Once more… there was no seam between stone and metal, like the wooden doors within the tunnel.

“Okay,” Seoho murmured, stepping forward with the blue flame in his palm, holding his breath as the others crowded behind him, shadows dancing. “We don’t know what’s on the other side… so be careful,” he breathed, glancing back.

Youngjo had barely lost any of the grey tint to his skin, blood still drying around his mouth, and eyes straining to remain neutral and unaffected. Once more, Seoho was tempted to ask them to stay behind. But he held his tongue.

His ears were numb with the crashing of his heart.

“Let’s do it,” Keonhee said, voice trying for optimism with a strained smile.

Seoho pressed his hand to the bars, feeling like ice against his skin.

Instead of flames appearing at the bottom, burning away the bars, Seoho felt a sensation similar to a drop on a rollercoaster, stumbling forward as something seemed to tug him forward by the stomach-

He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, it was almost too bright to see, squinting in a harsh warm light from real fire torches lining the walls, flooding everything in bright, flickering warmth-

He scanned for enemies, but the hallway was empty- roughly hewn and leading forward, seemingly endless, with sets of bars scattered like dozens of jail cells every few feet. Seoho held his breath as his eyes adjusted, turning to see if any of the others-

He stood alone on the other side of the bars, darkness between the bars hiding anything from view on the other side.

His heart shot to his throat as he rushed back to the bars, pressing his hands against them.

“ _Guys-_ “

The flame still burning in his palm pressed back against it, and Seoho fell through the bars as if they weren’t there, stumbling back into darkness and directly into Keonhee who caught him- making a startled, muffled shriek.

“Shit, you scared us!” Hwanwoong hissed, standing beside Keonhee with Dongju supporting Youngjo. “We thought something fucking grabbed you!”

“The door didn’t open,” Seoho breathed, slightly panicked from the momentary separation, looking back at the bars. “There- There’s definitely a prison on the other side. Well lit, probably hundreds of cells.”

“But only you went through,” Youngjo rasped, suddenly looking a bit paler again, as if the panic from Seoho disappearing had made it worse. “We couldn’t follow. The door didn’t disappear like the others did.”

Seoho looked around the bars, like there was some weak point he was missing, but… it was just dark grey metal connected to black stone… There was nothing to tinker with or fix.

Seoho wet his lips. “Grab my hand,” he ordered Keonhee, who did so without question, also taking Hwanwoong’s hand just in case as Seoho touched the bars again.

He stumbled forward, like a force yanking him forward, turning around as soon as he stepped into the light.

He was still alone.

He hurried back through the bars, finding Keonhee rubbing his hand and hissing in vaguely annoyed pain.

“Well, my hand tried to do through with you,” he assured him, wincing. “And then it slammed into a bar.” He was making a show of being hurt… but his eyes darkened with realization.

“It must be some sort of tighter security measure,” Dongju muttered darkly.

When Seoho looked beyond him, a little helpless, he saw similar expression of resignation in the eyes of the others, particularly Youngjo who seemed like he was reading every fear and horror in Seoho’s eyes.

“Seoho,” he said quietly, shaking his head regretfully. “I don’t think we can go with you through that.”

“I’m not leaving you here,” he snapped, fists clenching at the thought. “There’s got to be another entrance or something. Or maybe I just… need to find a way to give the hellfire to you guys-“

“I doubt there’s another entrance. Or, at the very least, one that wouldn’t give us the same problem,” Hwanwoong murmured, eyes sympathetic. “It’s clear that we can’t go through there without being demonics.”

Seoho’s lips thinned, frustration building in his chest as he looked back at the bars with a rough curse, his heart rate beginning to pick up at the helplessness welling there. He felt like there was something that was pulling him in two.

That same thing that had been yanking on his heart from the moment Geonhak left. The part of him that wanted to just find Geonhak, to do whatever it took, to not even stop to breathe until he got him back, to do whatever it took to stop him from leaving a second time.

And the part of him that knew that Geonhak was not the only person who had accepted him, Geonhak was not the only family he had found. He had so many others that he loved, people he needed to protect, people he needed to make sure were safe, people he couldn’t let down- no matter what he might be desperate to do.

It felt like being ripped in half- between Geonhak and the others, and it was no one’s fault but Seoho’s for not being able to just let Geonhak go. He was the one tearing himself in half.

He was tearing himself in half, even while one half was smiling and telling him to go after the other.

“You’ll move faster than all of us anyway,” Youngjo whispered, a little breathless, like he needed to sit down, and Seoho grit his teeth at how much of his weight Dongju needed to support. “Once we’re in there, we need to find Geonhak quickly. You can search on your own much faster.”

“I’m not just going to leave you guys out here,” he hissed, resisting the urge to hit something at the thought.

“We’re not helpless, Seoho,” Keonhee assured him with a small smile. “So far, there isn’t anyone down here. The shadows will hide us for now, but you have to go _now_. We don’t know how long this quiet will last.” 

But this could all be a trap. There could be a million dark elves hiding in the darkness. Seoho could get caught and never get back. He could find the prison to be infinitely wide, impossible to search entirely.

Worse: Seoho might search the whole prison and not find a trace of Geonhak.

“Seoho,” Dongju said firmly, eyes dark as they glared at Seoho with a darkness usually reserved for when Seoho ate his snacks. “Go. We don’t have time to argue. We can fend for ourselves for now. Just _go_.”

Seoho felt like he should keep arguing. And he might have, out of principle and disgust at the thought of leaving.

But then Hwanwoong stepped forward, like he was prepared to shove Seoho through the bars himself, staring intently, and Seoho whipped around, practically running through the bars before he thought about it anymore, eyes shut tight around the nausea in his stomach.

_You’d better fucking be down here, Geonhak._

The light was less blinding this time, his eyes adjusting quicker as he stood at the end of the hall, breathing in- slow and even, lest he forget about that and just start hyperventilating. Because if Geonhak wasn’t down here, he had no idea what to do next. Because if he exited the prison and something had happened to the others, he had no idea what he would do.

Because he was standing here, along a line of prison cells, and he _didn’t know what to do._

The place was silent. No crying or yelling or any sort of noise from within the cells.

He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Geonhak _would_ be somewhere down here. Seoho needed to find him fast, get back with the others, and figure out a way to get the fuck out of here.

So, Seoho stopped thinking. And he started walking.

~~~~~~~~~

Geonhak was by the stream again.

This time, it was Seoho walking down the grassy slope, watching Geonhak dangle a leg over the edge, staring off. He pause a few feet away, waiting for Geonhak to notice him, which only took all of three second before he turned around to face Seoho.

Seoho smiled.

That was easier, these days.

Geonhak didn’t smile back, his eyes flickering over Seoho briefly, as if looking for something, and then he turned away without letting Seoho see what expression he was wearing after his assessment.

It wasn’t a refusal, though, so Seoho walked down and sat beside him.

“This is _my_ moping place,” Seoho accused quietly, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

Geonhak didn’t meet his gaze, occupied with staring at something near the middle distance. “You don’t mope here,” he muttered, almost like an afterthought. “You think.”

“That’s the same thing,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s being somber and introspective.” A pause. “What’re you doing out here?”

“Thinking. Or moping, depending on your definition, apparently.”

Seoho elbowed him, making him sway but he didn’t retaliate, so Seoho merely sighed silently, leaning his elbowed on his knees as he looked over.

“Thinking about what?”

Geonhak’s lips thinned, eyes turning stormy, conflicted.

Seoho frowned.

“I’m not sure,” he murmured.

“You don’t know what you’re thinking about?” Seoho clarified quietly, blinking. “Are you okay?”

Geonhak hummed an affirmation, chewing the inside of his cheek briefly. “I’m… trying to categorize something,” he murmured, drawing a knee up and resting his chin on it, refusing to take his eyes off the middle distance.

“Like… emotions?” Seoho questioned, since that was usually the only thing that made Geonhak go all quiet and contemplative. “Mine?”

“Not yours,” Geonhak assured him absently, each word sounding carefully chosen, like he was trying not to accidentally let something slip.

Which was…

Geonhak wasn’t necessarily someone who shared personal information in abundance. But Seoho had never known him to _hide_ something, especially if it was something making him as quiet as this.

He tried to think back on the day, on what they had done that might have caused weird emotions in Geonhak.

They hadn’t even had training today, though. They’d hung out alone in the living room all morning, ate lunch together without the others who were too lazy to go down to the cafeteria… After that? They’d just walked around the compound together for a while, just… talking or strolling in silence when there wasn’t anything to say.

It was weird because… well, Seoho would consider this a pretty good day. _He’d_ certainly been in a good mood after it- him and Geonhak jostling each other back and forth as they walked, straying closer to and further away those more serious topics of their pasts and non-public emotions…

It had been comfortable, the whole day, just the two of them.

Seoho had been happy, the whole day. And he’d been watching Geonhak, so he knew that Geonhak had been fine, too. They’d split off while Seoho went to shower…

What happened in the space of an hour?

“What emotions, then?” he asked, curious and unobtrusive. Gentle.

Because Seoho had come to learn that when you’re assaulted with people’s emotions all the time… your relationship with your own emotions becomes weird. Geonhak interpreted and reacted to his emotions differently than most people did. Sometimes, it was more to his detriment.

Geonhak’s lips thinned, looking torn between annoyance and frustration, like he couldn’t find the words. Or perhaps he had the words and just didn’t want to say them.

The thought… made Seoho frown. “Do you see your own emotions in colors?” he asked quietly, wondering how that never came up in all the time they’d known each other.

There was a long silence that wasn’t heavy, but it was burdened- weighted with Geonhak’s confliction that stilled his tongue.

Geonhak spent so many hours and days and years walking Seoho through his own emotions, realizing which were normal and which were not, which were hurting because they were bad and which were hurting because he’d never been given the luxury of feeling them before.

Oddly, Seoho couldn’t retain a single thing to help Geonhak in return.

But Geonhak nodded, at length, wetting his lips. “I do.”

“Okay,” Seoho murmured, looking carefully for signs his presence was no longer welcome the longer he probed. “Do you… know what color the emotions you’re thinking about are?”

Geonhak winced, like the answer to that was his whole problem.

“Red,” he murmured, sounding like that single word had revealed everything he’d been trying to conceal.

He shut his eyes, as if waiting for Seoho to come to some devastating conclusion.

Seoho, however, frowned, trying to go through the catalogue of everything Geonhak had talked about colors and emotions.

“You’re not… angry, are you?” he asked slowly.

Geonhak shook his head.

“Um. You described defensiveness as red-ish, before, didn’t you?”

Geonhak opened his eyes slowly, not looking over at Seoho. “It’s not any of those,” he murmured heavily. “It’s a different shade, it… It’s not hot, like those emotions.”

“It’s cold?”

“It’s warm.” Geonhak’s fingers curled into a loose fist of frustration. “It’s not… like a bloody red, like those. It’s…” He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It’s dark, though. Like… a rose, maybe? Not dark, like close to black. It’s dark like… it’s a _red_ red.”

Seoho didn’t have a single clue what any of that meant or how it might make him able to help.

“Have you… ever seen it before?” he asked, since that was usually the first question Geonhak asked himself when an emotion took him by surprise.

At this, Geonhak stiffened, shoulders curling in slightly, almost defensive.

Seoho stopped looking at him, turning away to give him the privacy for whatever he needed to do to answer.

His heart felt heavier in his chest, though, the longer Geonhak remained silent, even his breathing quieted down- as if Seoho might forget he was there, answering a question.

What… was wrong with the emotion he was feeling? Seoho had been nothing but a maze of new emotions for Geonhak to navigate, but he’d never been distressed over an emotion, before- whether he recognized it or not.

But… Geonhak viewed his own emotions differently than he did the emotions he read from people.

“I… Once, maybe,” Geonhak finally murmured, voice turning thick and uncertain, like he was afraid of the fact he didn’t know. “It… It looks like the same color, but when I saw it before it was… different. Faded. Lighter. Like… I don’t know,” he ended flatly, one hand coming up and rubbing at his arm unconsciously.

Seoho frowned deeper, genuine concern beginning to crawl up his throat as he looked back at Geonhak pointedly. “In yourself or from someone else?”

Another agonizing silence, Geonhak sounding like the words were being torn from his throat.

“Someone else.”

“Okay,” Seoho said, turning his body to be cross legged facing Geonhak. “Do you know what the person was doing when you saw it?”

His lips thinned again, defensive and uncertain… and something bordering on afraid.

Seoho finally broke the distance between them, scooting closer and laying a hand on Geonhak’s knee that was closest to him. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Is it… a bad emotion?”

There were four categories that Geonhak placed emotions into: positive and negative, and good and bad. Which had originally sounded like the same categories, but not to Geonhak.

There were “positive” emotions like happiness, and then there were “good” emotions like kindness. “Negative” emotions like sadness, and “bad” emotions like hatred.

Emotions that were positive or negative inherently by nature, or emotions that were good or bad because they either harmed or benefited the people around them.

Geonhak never worried over negative emotions. But _bad_ emotions… those tended to have consequences.

“I don’t think so,” Geonhak said, voice sounding a bit stronger, more sure of this part. “I don’t… I don’t even think it’s a negative emotions.”

Which didn’t make sense to Seoho, given his reaction, but he stayed quiet as Geonhak’s brow furrowed deeper.

“At the moment, I’m more concerned about… seeing the emotion again. What it means if I see it again, instead of what it is.”

Seoho wasn’t sure what that meant, either.

“Try describing it,” he encouraged quietly, gesturing for Geonhak to speak. “We’ll figure it out. Or we’ll name it ourselves.”

Geonhak laughed- quiet and reserved, without much mirth, but… something almost like gratitude coloring it. He looked at Seoho for the first time since he sat down, eyes shining with something that was too deep for Seoho to make out.

He decided it looked like gratefulness anyway.

“It’s not that important,” he said, a wry smile as he drew his legs up, like he was preparing to leave. “It’s… It was a passing emotion, but it took me off guard and then I started obsessing over it.” He chuckled again, standing.

Seoho’s eyes followed him, concern still clinging to his brows as Geonhak brushed himself off.

“I’m fine, really,” he said, in a voice genuine enough… that Seoho stood as well, his frown easing slightly. “I put myself into a weird slump. I should go shower now. Maybe that will clear my head.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, clearly waiting for Seoho to agree that their conversation was over. Seoho pressed his lips together briefly.

“Was it something I did?” he questioned gently, probing softly.

Seoho was really the only person Geonhak had interacted with all day. Seoho wasn’t necessarily the cause, but… he had been present when it happened, probably.

Geonhak’s expression stuttered, something like surprise or panic flashing across his face, but it was too brief for Seoho to label it as anything but surprise at the sudden opportunity to place blame.

“No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “No, it… it was just a passing thought I had,” he assured him, staring at Seoho intently enough… that Seoho didn’t argue, despite the franticness in his voice.

Seoho nodded, and they began walking back up the hill, slowly.

“And besides,” Geonhak murmured, not looking over. “Even if it did have something to do with you… it wasn’t a bad emotion. There… It was a good emotion.”

A good emotion. Not even just a positive one.

That, more than anything else, made him question the fact that it wasn’t his fault.

But… if it wasn’t a bad emotion…

Seoho tucked the experience away for when Geonhak might bring up the weird emotion again.

He never did.

He left without that weird emotion ever resurfacing. At least, not that Geonhak ever told him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seoho’s feet were beginning to ache from the trek across uneven ground.

The dips and rises and sharp edges of stone tested his balance and thickness of his boots as he stumbled along, glancing in cells as he passed them.

Most were empty. Any that were occupied, whatever was inside was curled against the back wall, hidden in the shadows. By the sounds of breath and growls, Seoho knew they were not human.

It was like walking through the hallways, a hundred levels up- endless tunnels lined with cells that Seoho moved through quickly, checking every cell for fear of missing something.

Every minute he was gone weighed against his shoulder like a weight he wasn’t strong enough to carry.

The others had a time limit. Geonhak had a time limit. And every cell Seoho checked that yielded no results was another curse passing through his lips as he hurried along, hand pressed to the wall to keep him from stumbling, the rough stone rubbing his palm raw.

He was too busy looking to keep count of the hallways, but he was sure he had crossed through more than thirty forks and Ts in the halls. He took each turn with no confidence, but no choice.

Geonhak was clearly a higher-level prisoner, right? It made sense he would be deeper, less accessible… if he were here at all.

One cell Seoho checked rattled as he peered through the bars, an imp leaping at the bars and yanking on them with shrieks of rage like a monkey in a cage.

Hall after hall.

Seoho tried to calculate how long was too long. At what point did he have to turn back and admit defeat? How long was too long for the others… but might not be long enough for Geonhak? If he was here and Seoho just gave up-

He kept walking.

The halls grew darker, and Seoho grew more hopeful that an end was near as he drew a blue flame into his palm, using it to light his way.

The cells he passed began to be filled more sparsely, less prisoners… The bars grew closer together, some even containing dark, steel doors with little windows cut out of them. Most of those were empty, save for the ones filled with dark shapes that moved too fluidly to be human.

His skin grew colder the more icy the air turned, biting like frost against his arms. His hand holding the hellfire didn’t shake, but Seoho wished he had enough presence of mind to let himself shiver. He was too busy checking cells, though, hardly even breathing.

He wished he could just call for Geonhak. Just yell his name until the other got annoyed enough at his obnoxiousness and came out.

But he couldn’t.

So Seoho moved in silence as the cages began to become emptier and emptier until it had been three turns and he had yet to see another prisoner.

He stopped at yet another crossroad, staring around, heart hollow and chest rising and falling quickly with breathlessness as he held up his light. He looked both ways, knowing full well it was possible any one of the turns he had taken had led him further and further away from Geonhak.

He breathed out weakly, seeing his breath condensate in the air in front of himself.

He didn’t have a choice, did he?

He checked four more halls, all devoid of anything but Seoho’s frantic breathing.

One more hall, he promised himself. And then he’d find his way out to the others, deciding on another course of action.

Seoho held his breath and turned the corner, eyes shutting in stupid hope for a moment before he opened them.

This hallway had no cells lining it, only rough rock.

The only light was a torch on either side of a metal door at the very end of the hall with a window carved out of it.

Seoho scarcely had enough presence of mind to keep breathing, much less to move.

For a moment, all he could do was stare.

This had to be it.

His feet stumbled forward, nearly sending him crashing to the ground as he caught his foot on a stone, but he caught himself, rushing forward with his heart slowly expanding in his chest-

A year’s worth of loneliness suddenly crushed his heart, until Seoho knew he wasn’t breathing, hands hitting the cold metal door as he pressed himself to the window.

Seoho hadn’t even managed to get a glimpse of what was inside before there was a tugging around his abdomen, his body passing through the metal, like it had at the entrance of the prison.

Seoho breathed out harshly, opening his eyes to a moment of pitch darkness before his vision exploded in a burning wall of green-

Only the tension already running through his body and years upon years of instincts allowed Seoho to jerk away, back slamming into the cold metal door as his hands flung up, a weak but functioning shield appearing between him and the flame.

He waited for it to die down, the green quickly fading to orange, burning and casting light across the entire cell-

“ _Geonhak_!” Seoho yelled over the flames, eyes shutting as his shield strengthened itself against the continued onslaught-

The flame disappeared, leaving Seoho suddenly freezing in its absence. 

He dropped his hands, but the shield remained between the two of them, casting them in an eerie blue light that made the shadows dance like liquid ink.

Seoho’s eyes were wide, his chest heaving with the adrenaline and pain rushing through his veins as he struggled to see in the dim lighting after the roaring flames.

He saw Geonhak.

Grey metal cuffs pinned his wrists to the wall, his feet touching the ground as his head was half held up with what looked like extreme effort, a kind of ice cold, numb anger and hatred that Seoho had never before seen clinging to his eyes that stared like sharpened flint at Seoho.

Seoho saw the moment those dull, anger-ladened eyes registered what he was seeing.

For the second time in his life… Seoho felt Geonhak’s emotions wash over him uncontrollably- relief, hard and cold and fast rushing over him like a river current threatening to sweep his legs out from under him-

It quickly changed to something slamming into his chest so hard, he couldn’t breathe- lungs freezing as the weight of Geonhak’s own relief and exhaustion hit so suddenly, Seoho was helpless to prepare for the way it sliced through his heart like a knife.

Seoho was lucky he was already leaning against the door, trying to regain his breath and process everything he was seeing, his own pounding heart and fearful blood mixing with the waves of relief coming off of Geonhak like tidal waves crashing against the shore.

And suddenly he wasn’t sure if it was Geonhak’s relief or his own that was choking him.

A year was not a long time.

Seoho had gone through so many years that flew by so quickly, he hardly registered them as the passing of time.

But it suddenly felt like he was looking at an old piece of his life he’d never meant to leave behind.

He couldn’t breathe, but he could see. 

Seoho saw skin so pale in the blue light that it looked translucent, dark stains stretching across that pallor in splatters of blood that looked black in the dim light- smeared across his forehead, across his cheek, around his mouth-

Geonhak’s lip was split, cracked and clotted. Trickles of dried blood dripped down across his eyes from his hairline, stuck to his fringe and skin. His breathing sounded papery and staticky.

He was still wearing his jacket, his ripped dark jeans, his boots… His jacket was torn and his boots were crusty with dark stains. It looked as if the cuffs at his wrists were the only thing keeping him up, his entire body swaying like it wanted to fall but couldn’t.

Only his face and hands had skin exposed, but even through the blood stains, Seoho could see dark purple where bruises seemed to cling.

Now Seoho knew it was Geonhak’s relief stealing his breath because any of if that Seoho had felt was sucked away like a vacuum, leaving him empty and cold at the sight.

Geonhak’s eyes met his in the eerie light.

Seoho watched the anger in his eyes suddenly fade to nothing but a blank, dull stare at Seoho, a breath leaving him as he slumped forward, chin hitting his chest as a cough tore from his lungs.

Seoho watched blood splatter on the ground as Geonhak let the chains take his weight.

For a moment, Seoho couldn’t be sure he hadn’t just fainted, jerking forward-

He stopped, just a foot away from Geonhak whose breathing was clearly labored, hands clenched into fists, blisters and discoloration to the skin around the cuffs. For a moment… he couldn’t breathe again.

It wasn’t like Seoho had expected to find Geonhak in perfect condition. Part of him hadn’t expected to find him at all… and the other half had been prepared to find him cold and still.

But it hit him with enough force to paralyze him… the fact that Geonhak was in front of him. Alive, but… but very clearly hanging by a thread.

Seoho had never needed to see Geonhak like this.

The worst injuries he’d experienced had been healed within minutes by Hwanwoong.

Seoho stared at the culmination of the months that he’d hesitated, afraid of what he’d find.

Geonhak was alive.

He was far from okay… but he was breathing. 

And that was more than Seoho had reasonably allowed himself to hope for in months.

Seoho took a careful step forward, feeling as if… as if there was suddenly an impossible distance between them that he wasn’t capable of crossing.

It was anticlimactic when he took another step, until he was standing directly in front of Geonhak, reaching for the cuff on Geonhak’s left wrist with hands that didn’t shake.

His voice was not afforded the same steadiness. 

“Geonhak-“

He wasn’t able to get anything else but that out, his throat entirely occupied with the stone lodged there, coated with guilt and a million other emotions he didn’t have the capacity to feel.

His eyes were burning as Geonhak didn’t move.

“Geonhak, I…“

It was a stupid whisper that broke his voice, making him fall silent. Geonhak’s only movement was the labored, uneven rise and fall of his chest.

_I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner._

_I’m sorry I would have left you here._

_I’m sorry I was too scared to come after you._

_I’m sorry I let you leave in the first place._

His hand touched the cuff, and when the cold metal didn’t immediately give, he lit the icy blue flame against it, watching it release with an echoing _click._

The sound was soft, but loud in the silence.

So loud, he almost missed Geonhak’s voice, barely louder than a breath in his ear.

“ _I really hope you’re real this time…_ ”

Seoho’s hands froze, his entire heart stopping, his eyes wide and unseeing as he stared at the cuff. He felt like the floor had just fallen out from beneath him.

He was forced to snap out of it after Geonhak’s deadweight forced the cuff open, his wrist dropping out and his body falling forward. Seoho caught him across the chest, one hand still chained to the wall, his entire body limp in Seoho’s arms-

Seoho had also never had to see Geonhak this weak.

He grit his teeth hard enough to make them ache, placing Geonhak’s free arm across his shoulders, listening to the hiss of pain and tension that ran through the other’s body-

“Yes, I’m fucking real,” he muttered, an uncharacteristic anger coloring his voice as his blood suddenly flooded with enough fire to make him feel like he was ready to burn to ash. “And we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

He didn’t think about how he was going to find his way back to the others.

He didn’t think about if they were still safe.

He didn’t think about how they were going to get back to the surface.

Geonhak was silent, unable to even aid Seoho as he released the other wrist- Geonhak hissing in pain as his stiff shoulders moved, but Seoho swiftly hooked Geonhak’s arm over his other shoulder, his chest pressed to Seoho’s back.

He dropped down into a squat, Geonhak’s body naturally folding over him limply as he grabbed one leg, hiking it up around his waist.

“I need at least a little help,” Seoho panted, Geonhak a dense but too-frail weight against him. “If I’m holding your legs, I need your arms around me.”

For a brief moment, he again feared Geonhak might have fallen unconscious, but then his arms were twitching, trying to raise from their limp position over Seoho’s shoulders to actually hold around his neck.

Seoho took his arms, folding them around his neck until Geonhak managed to grab his own elbows to keep them locked in place. Seoho locked his arms beneath Geonhak, standing with little difficulty as he stared at the metal door.

He swallowed thickly, Geonhak’s rough breathing even more audible by his ear as his head rested against Seoho’s shoulder.

“You’re… actually here,” he murmured, almost talking to himself.

Seoho did not have the mental capacity to reflect on the implications of Geonhak potentially hallucinating about him.

The guilt would eat him alive.

“I knew you would, you idiot,” Geonhak breathed, something almost like a laugh clinging to his voice.

Seoho forced his legs to stay beneath him, staring at the door as his heart wrenched in half.

“I can’t take you with me through the door,” Seoho rasped in lieu of answering, hands not shaking where they held up Geonhak. “So I have to break through it. Someone will probably notice- I don’t know what kind of alarm system they have. We’ll have to run.”

Geonhak chuckled, his voice slow and quiet like honey running over itself.

“Can you run… with me?” he whispered roughly, unable to go louder. “Your leg strength was always-“ He paused to catch his breath- “questionable at best.”

Seoho wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, fingers curling into fists.

“Mock me once we’re out of this hell hole,” he muttered, walking up to the door and supporting Geonhak with one hand while the other extended towards the metal.

He took a steadying breath- inhaling slowly- before ejecting the breath with a burst of hell energy that slammed into the door- screeching metal as it caved in on itself, ripped away from the stone and falling away into the hallway Seoho had run through.

He barely waited until the sound of rocking metal faded before running forward, dodging the door and jogging as fast as he could down the hall- balanced between smooth enough not to jostle Geonhak and fast enough to get them the fuck out.

Seoho didn’t remember every turn and twist he’d taken, but he remembered enough to get them in the right direction.

Geonhak made no more comments as he ran, the silence only broken by the breath in his ear and the vibrations of coughs into Seoho’s shirt that were sometimes horrifically damp, and the occasional painfully sharp intake of breath when he was jarred too roughly.

Seoho turned one corner, Geonhak audibly swallowing a pained yell as his arms gave out- nearly causing his upper body to slip off before Seoho stopped, grabbing his wrist to keep him upright.

Which only caused more pain, but Geonhak managed to get his grip back, though it shook with the effort of holding on.

“What the hell did they do to you?” Seoho couldn’t help but whisper to himself, keeping one arm holding Geonhak up, but using the other to keep a hold on his arms that probably wouldn’t be able to hold on for much longer.

He kept running- slightly slower with the effort of keeping Geonhak on his back. 

Geonhak’s tried to help keep his own grip, but his arms kept almost slipping out from around Seoho.

They always retightened themselves, no matter how badly they shook with the effort, like an afterthought, or Geonhak trying to keep himself from passing out.

“They barely… did anything,” Geonhak rasped, barely even a whisper, in his ear- the tone and voice so familiar, but warped in ways Seoho had never needed to hear before. “I did it to myself… but it was worth it.”

He sounded smug, underneath the layers of pain. 

Seoho was about to ask what the fuck that meant, but then he remembered the wall of flame that had met him when he entered the cell.

His stomach dropped, freezing and boiling as disbelief and anger crashed together.

“Geonhak… do _not_ tell me you’ve been using your fucking powers down here-“

“They burn down here just as easily as they do up there,” Geonhak muttered, unapologetic. “So far… it hasn’t killed me.”

Calling Geonhak insane had always been a compliment, before.

It was not, this time.

“You didn’t know that it wouldn’t,” Seoho hissed, mind flashing through Youngjo’s wings tucked against his body, the blood undoubtedly clinging to his clothes that Geonhak leaned against. “You _still_ don’t know that it won’t-“

What if it was already killing him?

Had Geonhak really just been using his powers down here… just to prove a point?

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he snapped quietly, because anything else he might say would have been too heavy.

“Isn’t it worth it,” Geonhak rasped, “if I can kill a few? Just to see the fucking look on their faces when I didn’t roll over and die?”

“ _No_!” Seoho snapped furiously, turning his head, but he couldn’t see past Geonhak’s hair. “You could have gotten yourself killed!”

He said that it wasn’t worth it… but Seoho knew that it was. To someone like Geonhak… it was.

To have that power over them by surviving? To shove it in their faces that they couldn’t kill him so easily? To be able to show the creatures that had haunted him since childhood… that they couldn’t break him?

It was worth it.

“To be fair,” Geonhak whispered, making Seoho’s jaw clench. “I was prepared for dying, regardless.” 

Seoho nearly tripped, head whipping around to glare at Geonhak, something in his chest snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight-

At the same moment he stumbled to recover, there was the rumble of creatures approaching- muffled echoes of high-pitched voices and the screeches of rage further down the hall-

At a distance, the first dark elf turned the corner at the far end of the hall, looking around with a murderous blue glow in his eyes-

Seoho knew that an all-out fight with Geonhak on his back was not feasible.

He jerked to the side before the elf could notice them, pressing a hand to the bars and praying that regular jail cells would be different-

Instead of trying to suck him through, the bars burned away like the wooden doors had, and Seoho slipped inside, slamming a hand against the wall and watching them burn back into place as he stumbled backwards into the darkness of the cell.

He didn’t stop until they hit the wall, remaining silent as he felt Geonhak hold his breath, the shadows wrapping around them enough that they should be glanced over.

The commotion grew louder as Seoho’s heart pounded, slowly dropping into a crouch, bracing himself with a rough hand against the stone floor as he carefully guided Geonhak to slip from his back.

If they were noticed… he needed to be able to fight.

Geonhak went silently, breathing out weakly when he hit the ground softly, leaning back against the wall with his head tilted back and his eyes shut firmly.

Seoho remained crouched, eyes trained on the dim light outside the cell that grew a furious blue.

He held his breath as dozens of dark elves flew passed their hiding space, screeches growing louder and deafening as one hand was held out defensively, the other reaching back to lay a hand on Geonhak’s leg, like he might lose him in the dark.

Seoho stiffened when Geonhak’s hand landed on his, holding onto it weakly.

He kept his eyes forward, watching as they were passed by without a single elf so much as hesitating at their cell.

The last one passed and the hall grew silent again.

Seoho finally took a quiet breath, still not moving as his mind raced. Should they run now? They weren’t terribly far from where Geonhak had been kept- how quickly would they turn around? How many others were waiting in their path?

Could Seoho even feasibly get Geonhak out of here?

“Wait a minute,” Geonhak whispered behind Seoho, making him turn.

It was hard to see in the dim light of the cell, but it still seemed like he had his eyes shut.

“Let them see and come back,” he said quietly, exhaustion clinging to his words. “We can follow them out of here.”

That was an incredibly risky and stupid and everything-could-go-wrong move. But… Seoho couldn’t afford to be running in circles with Geonhak while they were being hunted.

He settled back against the wall, retreating into shadow as he let himself catch his breath.

He just prayed the others were safe.

There were a million things Seoho wanted to say to fill the sudden silence around them with, but he didn’t think that his voice would make it through any of them, and anything else he could have said would have been a terrible idea with trying to be quiet.

Nothing about their situation was settling on him yet, though. It still seemed like a fever dream run on adrenaline and wishful thinking.

So, he was trying to cope with his newly found reality when Geonhak decided to speak, making Seoho jump slightly.

“It wasn’t…”

He turned, able to see the vague outline of Geonhak against the dark stone, but unable to see what exactly his face was doing. He stayed silent, though, letting the quiet words fill the space ever so slightly.

“It wasn’t… that I didn’t trust you.”

Seoho’s stomach lurched sickeningly.

“I always thought… that if anyone was going to get me out of this fucking hell hole… it would be you,” he breathed, needing to pause for air just from speaking. “I knew… that you were the only person who cared enough. But… the thought that you would know I was gone, much less find me… was so slim that I didn’t even…” He swallowed. “It was wishful thinking.”

Wishful thinking.

Seoho wondered how long Geonhak had lasted… before he could no longer support that wishful thinking- if he broke before Seoho did.

“I… I wanted to go after you from the moment you left,” Seoho whispered, throat and skin feeling raw and exposed.

When he blinked, his eyes burned, everything tumbling around his head too loudly, too painfully.

“We heard rumors for months… and then suddenly, people said you disappeared. That you were probably dead.”

The words were no easier to say in Geonhak’s presence than they were when Seoho was alone.

Geonhak shifted in the dark. “Did you believe them?” he murmured, almost hesitant.

Seoho chewed the inside of his lip for a moment. “The others told me to go after you,” he murmured in lieu of answering. “But… I couldn’t.”

“The agency?” he rasped, coughing weakly.

Seoho shut his eyes for a moment, trying not to let himself fall beneath the waves slamming into his chest, threatening to sweep his feet out from under him. He opened his eyes, too afraid of missing something passing by their cell.

“No,” he whispered numbly, voice catching. “I was too scared to.”

It did not feel freeing to admit it out loud.

All it did was create a foothold for the guilt to stab itself into.

Geonhak was silent, but even Seoho could hear the curiosity and confusion in it.

His eyes burned, and when he blinked, he felt that burn hit his cheek. 

He shook his head hard to clear it, swallowing. “I didn’t think you were dead,” he said, almost more like a comfort to himself than Geonhak. “But then time just kept passing and you never showed back up… And I knew that you were either dead or you weren’t.”

His hands were shaking, and he tucked them under his arms to still them, staring out into the hallway.

“If you were alive… I didn’t want to chase you down like some idiot,” he muttered. “And if you were dead… I would have rathered spent the rest of my life just thinking you disappeared.”

Looking at it now… Seoho felt like a fucking idiot.

Look back at it… Seoho wanted to reach back into the past and slap himself across the face.

What a stupid fucking reason.

“I get it.”

Seoho’s heart skipped as he turned to Geonhak so fast, he felt his neck protest.

But Geonhak’s face was hidden in the darkness, though his body was leaned limply against the wall, his arms curled in tightly. His voice… was low and even.

“There’s… a lot of reasons to be scared. To put something off.” Geonhak swallowed, an audible hiss as he winced. “And when you look back… it seems so stupid of you to have hesitated.”

Seoho stared at him, eyes a little wide and lips parted in words that he couldn’t find a way to voice.

He felt like the world was spinning out from under him, trying to find the balance of having Geonhak back beside him after a year of tilting back and forth.

“Even if you’d never shown up, I wouldn’t have blamed you,” Geonhak murmured slowly, shifting in the darkness enough that his face was brought into very slight illumination- allowing Seoho to see the dark eyes staring at him like he still wasn’t entirely sure he was real.

Seoho wasn’t breathing. This, at least, he was sure of.

Geonhak’s eyes fell to stare at the sharp stone they sat on, voice turning dull.

“I left,” he murmured heavily, guilt audible. “There’s was no reason you should have even thought about me… much less go after me.”

Seoho punched him without thinking about it.

“ _Ah-_ “

Geonhak’s sharp, loud cry of pain was cut off as he doubled over, clutching the arm that Seoho had punched-

“ _Shit_ -“

Seoho grabbed him, eyes wide and mouth open in shock at his own actions as Geonhak hissed through painfully clenched teeth, fingers digging into his arm as Seoho cursed in colorful enough language that Youngjo probably would have slapped him-

“ _Fuck_ -“

“Shit- _I’m sorry_ , I didn’t-“

“Mother _fucker-_ “

“I didn’t think about it!”

“You fucking _punched_ me!” Geonhak hissed, glaring in the darkness, but…

But Seoho saw something alight in his eyes. Something like excitement. Adrenaline. Something good.

Something familiar.

Seoho stood there, mouth agape and wordless as Geonhak cursed once more, but it… it got muddled in a weak, pained laugh- the pain very real, but… but the familiar of the action taking both of them by surprise.

“Sorry,” Seoho whispered again, hands hovering by Geonhak as his heart slowly crushed itself, self-reprimanding.

Yeah, Seoho. Just punch the dying idiot whose been in enemy torture chambers for six months. Nice fucking going.

“Sorry,” he repeated jerkily, hands dropping into his lap limply. “But… you’re a fucking idiot.”

“ _I’m_ the idiot?” Geonhak demanded, voice quiet and strained but… but that familiar, indignant tone. “You _punched_ me-“

“Why the hell would you think that just because you left, I’d forget you?” Seoho hissed, the anger that brought about the hit in the first place beginning to resurface. “What the _fuck_ do you mean, I shouldn’t have even thought about you?”

Geonhak was silent, and when Seoho stared hard through the darkness, he saw something taken aback and shocked across his face, like… like he genuinely didn’t think Seoho had been thinking about him.

Seoho’s exaggerated injustice suddenly quieted into something… almost disappointed. Something sad.

The kind of “sad” that only Geonhak could really understand.

“Did you…” Seoho frowned, shaking his head slowly. “Did you seriously think that I just fucking forgot about you after you left?”

The other was silent, turning away to hide his face in the dark.

Seoho barely resisted the urge to punch him again, a fist clenching on his knee.

“Are you fucking-“

He stopped himself, seeing the way Geonhak’s shoulders tensed- not a flinch, but… Seoho was sure that having an argument was not the best thing for him, no matter how familiar a sensation it was.

He took a breath, releasing the fist on his leg, though his heart continued to sink ever lower in his chest.

“I begged you to stay.”

Geonhak looked back at him, eyes a little wide at the reminder as Seoho stared at him, eyes subdued and calm for the first time since he’d come down into this hell hole.

Seoho dropped his eyes to look at his own knees- but he could see Geonhak staring at him, entirely still, like he was afraid to move.

“I _begged_ you to stay… Do you really think I was even capable of forgetting you, much less that I _wanted_ to?” he demanded quietly. “Regardless of that- We were by each other’s side through _everything_ for five _years_ \- You were the first fucking person on this earth who didn’t want to see me dead-“

Seoho’s voice caught, making him freeze.

He swallowed thickly, eyes shutting tightly.

“You were the first person to treat me like I wasn’t a monster… and you really thought I would forget you?”

It seemed entirely idiotic. Impossible. Unthinkable.

"I’ve always known you were an idiot, but this is another level, Geonhak,” he muttered, opening his eyes to stare into the darkness.

Part of him… suddenly wondered if Geonhak had planned to forget Seoho after he left.

“I never-“ Geonhak stopped himself, shifting and clothes rustling with a quiet hiss from the effort of moving. “I didn’t mean… that you would have forgotten me. Or that I forgot you.”

Seoho swallowed.

“I just… meant that… You begged me to stay. And I didn’t.” Seoho felt him shift against his side, some of his weight suddenly resting against Seoho’s shoulder. “So I figured… even if you didn’t forget me… you’d be pissed at me.”

“I was. I am,” Seoho assured him, turning slowly to stare at him, unable to muster the courage for a glare. “You’re an asshole, and I fucking hate you.”

There was a brief moment of silence where Seoho was afraid Geonhak had misunderstood-

“But you’re still here,” he whispered, not a question but an undeniable realization.

Seoho felt like his heart was slowly being crushed.

“But I’m still here,” he agreed quietly, drawing one knee into his chest like it might help to keep it together. “Because who else is going to get your ass out of stupid situations you end up in because you’ve got too good of morals?”

Geonhak chuckled, heavy and low and tired. His weight suddenly became heavier against Seoho’s shoulder. “I bet you were a joy for the others while I was gone,” he murmured, suddenly sounding like he was on the verge of falling asleep.

Or maybe he was about to pass out.

The smallest piece of comfort and relief in Seoho’s chest suddenly frozen over as he sat up a bit straighter, violently reminded that they were not safe yet. Not anywhere close.

“So much so that they didn’t hesitate to jump into the Hellscape just to stop my bitching,” Seoho muttered, not letting himself think about what might be going on outside their silent prison.

Geonhak jerked, almost like a twitch, but he fell back against Seoho’s shoulder. “They’re… They’re here, too?” he demanded, suddenly sounding out of breath.

Seoho nodded stiffly, his blood growing colder, making him tense without any enemies in sight. “Yeah,” he whispered hoarsely. “Outside the prison. I couldn’t take them in with me.”

“They-“

There was a sound similar to a violent gag as Geonhak’s body lurched forward, slipping from Seoho’s shoulder.

His arm shot out in the dark, catching Geonhak across the chest before he could collapse all the way, keeping him upright-

Even in the dark, Seoho flinched at the sound of Geonhak vomiting onto the rough stone floor, his legs jerking away from it as he shifted backwards, still keeping the other from falling into his own sick.

Seoho cursed forcefully, getting his feet beneath him as he crouched, drawing Geonhak up slightly to keep him from choking as his breathing suddenly turned labored again, sounding wet and thick as a trembling hand clutched at the arm Seoho had across his chest- clammy and cold.

Seoho wasn’t sure if it was panic, horror, fear- it could have been any combination of horrific emotion as he stared at the spot on the ground that he dragged Geonhak away from, the vomit too dark to be anything but terrifying.

“Geonhak, what the fuck?” he whispered, horrified and helpless as Geonhak fell back against the wall, panting shakily and his entire body trembling like he was suddenly freezing. 

“Don’t… worry. Th-That’s… normal,” he breathed, holding onto Seoho’s arm even though it wasn’t keeping him up anymore.

Seoho’s eyes shut slowly, trying not to focus on anything but making sure Geonhak didn’t fall. “Geonhak…”

_Tell me you haven’t been doing this to yourself for months…_

_Tell me you haven’t been slowly killing yourself just to kill a few dark elves…_

_Tell me that this is reversible and not actually going to kill you, please-_

“Hey,” he panted weakly, voice barely an exhausted whisper. “It was… either die s-slowly… by my powers… Or maybe die… immediately by them. I made… a ch-choice.”

He coughed- normal sounding, but painful.

Geonhak and Seoho had grown up in worlds of kill-or-be-killed. It wasn’t new to them.

But Seoho wasn’t used to seeing Geonhak have to face that alone. Seoho knew what it was like to face that alone. It wasn’t pleasant. It wasn’t something he wanted Geonhak to have to face, ever.

It wasn’t something he’d ever thought they’d have to face alone.

Ignorantly, he had thought that he and Geonhak would never have a reason to face something alone.

“Geonhak,” he muttered hoarsely, “I need a fucking list of things you’re about to start telling me are normal, because _vomiting blood_ should never be on that fucking list for any _sane person_.”

Geonhak tried to laugh. Or maybe it was a cough. It may have even been a gag.

“Just throwing up,” he rasped weakly, suddenly sounding like he was speaking through a weight on his chest. “Sometimes… randomly passing out. Random p-pains. I’m not… not really sure if I can see straight, but…” He shrugged as best as he could.

Seoho was glad he got to punch him earlier because he would have felt even worse about it right now.

“You knew that using your powers made it worse.”

Geonhak winced, his body twitching against Seoho’s arm. “Pretty quickly, yeah. But it… it pissed them off too much not to use them.” He made another vague noise that might have been a laugh. “I’m not made of glass, Seoho,” he rasped. “You worry too much.” 

Seoho suddenly stiffened. “What about your empathy?” he demanded, turning to Geonhak, eyes finally adjusted enough to make out the tense expression leaning against Seoho’s shoulder. “You’ve never been able to turn that off completely.”

There was a silence. A quiet hum of acknowledgement.

“Dark elves’ emotions are different,” he murmured quietly, thoughtful. “They’re easier to block out… It hasn’t really been an issue.” He swallowed. “I… I probably should have noticed sooner that it was you coming for me. I could feel your emotions differently. But… Well, I was basically unconscious when you showed up.”

He said it so casually.

Seoho needed them to be out of here now.

“I felt your relief when I showed up,” he said because he had nothing else he was strong enough to say. “It still feels weird, feeling emotions that aren’t mine.”

Geonhak chuckled- actually managing to make it sound like a laugh this time.

“Well, after realizing that it wasn’t a dark elf I was trying to roast…” He paused, head shifting on Seoho’s shoulder, tucking against his arm.

He laughed again- quieter this time. Heavier.

“No one’s ever yelled my name quite like you,” he muttered, voice shaking with amusement. And maybe something else.

_“No one’s ever yelled my name quite like you,” Geonhak told him, laughing as he shoved Seoho’s shoulder._

_They were walking back to their dorm- moods high after a successful, easy mission._

_“The hell does that mean?” Seoho demanded, shoving him back- both of them a little oblivious to the others trailing behind them in their own conversations._

_“I’ve never heard someone manage to sound so fucking pissed and so worried at once,” he said, grinning as he rolled his eyes. “You somehow always make it sound like you’re about to beat my ass… and that you’ll melt the next creature that tries to touch me.”_

_Seoho hadn’t had an answer for that. He wasn’t even quite sure of what emotions went through his head when Geonhak was in danger._

_Seoho had never cared when someone was in danger before. It was weird. Terrifying._

_He didn’t have an answer, and he knew that any argument he presented would simply be refuted by the fact that Geonhak could very clearly see exactly what was going on in Seoho’s head._

_“It’s weird,” Geonhak said after a long pause that turned heavier._

_“What is?” Seoho questioned, leaning to see him._

_Geonhak’s eyes were somewhere far away, but his lips were quirked in a smile._

_“Anytime you say it… my name is a violent blue.”_

_Not icy, he’d said. Electric._

_Blinding and sharp and threatening… but, underneath it all, it was still a familiar shade of blue._

_Seoho hadn’t had an answer for that, either._

“You’re dumb,” Seoho said because he still didn’t have an answer for that. “Stop saying dumb shit. I’ll forgive you and say it’s the blood loss talking.”

Geonhak laughed.

Seoho didn’t move, staring at his hands resting on his knees.

“Your powers don’t have an issue down here,” Geonhak murmured like an afterthought, shifting against Seoho’s side to sit up a bit straighter. “They don’t hurt to use.”

They weren’t questions.

Seoho hummed in affirmation, feeling his heart become a little heavier.

“And how are you handling that, exactly?”

Seoho couldn’t help but snort, shaking his head with a huff that was the only thing keeping him from smacking Geonhak again. “I’m not the one currently vomiting blood.”

“I’m not vomiting blood right now.”

Another barely suppressed urge to slap him.

“Yes, because God forbid anyone be in less than perfect condition before you address any issues you have,” Seoho said- walking the line between harsh and sarcastic.

He looked out the corner of his eye at Geonhak who was quiet.

“I’m not the one whose been locked in the fucking Hellscape for six months, Geonhak,” he muttered flatly, looking back at the bars of their cell. “How about we get the fuck out of here before we address any potential existential crises on my end, alright?”

More silence, which Seoho knew was only a gear-up for whatever was coming.

“I take it that means it’s bad.”

“It’s not fucking bad,” Seoho said sharply, straightening without jostling him too much. “But I’m not having this conversation with you while you’re currently too weak to even sit up on your own.”

More silence.

“I probably could… if I really wanted to,” he muttered. “I probably wouldn’t stay up for very long-“

“Can you stop fucking _deflecting_ and just be honest about how much it hurts or not?” Seoho snapped, turning sharply enough to jostle him, but not to dislodge him as he glared at Geonhak’s face that he could finally see in its entirety for how close they were.

There wasn’t shock or hurt in Geonhak’s eyes.

Just something quiet. Heavy. Subdued.

“I don’t know what the _fuck_ is going on, Geonhak,” he hissed through his teeth and his eyes that were suddenly burning again, a sudden anger that he hadn’t been prepared to rush through his blood. “I don’t know jack shit about how things work down here or what they’ve fucking done to you-“

Seoho suddenly felt like his heart was beating too fast. His breathing was too shallow.

The waves that had been threatening to sweep his footing away were suddenly tidal waves crashing over him and shoving him under- tossing him around until he didn’t even know which way to swim.

This was not being helped by Geonhak off-handed comments and half-statements about what the hell had happened to him.

“I’ve spent a fucking year wondering what the hell was happening to you and six months thinking that you might have been fucking _dead-_ “ He felt Geonhak wince. “I found out that you might be alive like a few hours ago, I was trying to get our team through the fucking Hellscape without anyone dying-“

Seoho had never wanted to be a leader. Keeping himself alive, keeping his partner alive- that was the limit of his abilities. Anything beyond that… he didn’t have the qualifications for.

He was too scared, too unstable for anything like that.

“And then I had to leave them outside when they can’t use their powers, and I find you practically half dead- Fuck, maybe you’re more than that,” he snapped, nails digging into his palm painfully. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t know what they did, what you did to yourself, or how permanent it is-“

He bit his tongue for a moment, the silence ringing between them.

The words wouldn’t stop, though.

“I don’t fucking _know_ anything, Geonhak,” he hissed, voice weaker than before, eyes stinging deeper. “And it’s not fucking helping that you can’t be honest about what the hell happened. Stop… deflecting stuff and just… _tell me_ how bad everything is.”

His initial assessment of Geonhak had been surmised in exhaustion and whatever physical wounds he could see. Now he was vomiting blood, different kinds of pain, fucked up vision-

He’d listed them all like mild inconveniences, rather than an aftermath of torture- physical or otherwise.

Seoho just… needed to know how close he actually was to potentially losing anyone.

But Geonhak didn’t speak- neither in defense of himself nor in an apology, and Seoho’s felt guilt sink its teeth into his heart.

His own fears were not an excuse to start tearing into Geonhak for what he’d had to go through. The likelihood that Geonhak knew anything more than Seoho did was slim to none.

He heard Geonhak take a slow breath- a clear precursor to a response, but Seoho beat him to it.

“Sorry,” he muttered roughly for the second time that day, shaking his head to clear it as guilt tried to root too deeply. “I- I’m sorry, that- that’s not fair.” His rolled his lips, fighting the nausea trying to settle in his stomach. “That’s not fair,” he repeated in a whisper.

The silence was too loud.

Seoho was beginning to hate it.

“It wasn’t your job to gather answers,” he whispered, shaking his head harder when it began to cloud with panic and fear- feeling Geonhak sway with the force of it. “Your only job was to stay alive…”

That was all that mattered.

He was alive. Those nights when Seoho would lay and stare at the empty bed, thinking that it might stay empty for an entirely different reason… Every time he ignored the whispers and hopeful rumors that Geonhak would stay gone…

The fear that Seoho let him walk away and that got him killed…

All of that was laid to rest for now. In this exact moment. 

In this exact moment, it didn’t matter how much longer Geonhak or the others might be alive. He was alive. The others were alive when he last saw them. For now…

Until such a time as Seoho was in immediate danger of losing someone… he needed to get his head together. He needed to stop panicking, he needed to stop being so fucking scared-

He thought that finding Geonhak would fix everything. That it might magically assuage everything that had been building up for the past year…

It didn’t.

Suddenly having Geonhak next to him was… undoing everything Seoho had learned over the last year.

He had learned how to walk sideways, unbalanced from the counterweight he’d carried for years suddenly leaving him. He had grown accustomed to looking at the world from slightly-tilted. He’d gotten used to having to exert the extra effort to remain upright without his partner to balance him.

That weight was returned, and Seoho was frantically trying to reach equilibrium again, but it suddenly felt like a weight dragging him downwards- rocking back and forth as he tried to find that balance again.

Geonhak was off-balance, too- slumped over, still shaking, his voice paper thin. Seoho was trying to stay upright while carrying a weight heavier than he’d ever needed to before. He didn’t begrudge Geonhak that, no matter what his outbursts had implied.

He just wanted to get out of here, together, in one piece.

He just wanted to feel normal again.

It wasn’t until the sound of gagging reached his ears again that Seoho snapped back into reality from his fogged head.

Instinctively, a hand braced against Geonhak’s chest as he fell forward- keeping him up as he threw up for the second time… Seoho repressed a wince as he turned away, stomach rolling.

When it passed, Geonhak’s full weight slumped against Seoho’s hand, a violent shiver running through tense muscles that made Seoho afraid he was about to throw up again. But then his head slumped forward, all the tension leaving his body-

“ _Geonhak-_ ” Seoho hissed, heart suddenly dropping. 

Carefully ensuring the blood and sick had drained from his mouth, Seoho leaned him back against the waist, glancing at the doorway briefly before lighting a small flame at the tip of his finger, finally casting them in enough light to see clearly in.

Geonhak’s eyes were closed, head lolled to the side… unconscious, Seoho confirmed after placing a finger beneath his nose and feeling the shallow breath flowing there, which was the barest of comforts.

“Fucking shit,” he muttered, eyes tracing over the blood against his skin, the pallor that was obvious even in the blue lighting, the beats of sweat gathered at his temple and hairline.

Seoho was prepared to say screw it to following the dark elves back out because he couldn’t keep sitting around here.

He wasn’t even sure if he could realistically carry Geonhak while he was completely unconscious, but he was running out of patience and willpower to wait as he shifted, squatting in front of Geonhak and hoping that he didn’t horrifically hurt something while the other wasn’t able to say it.

No matter what jabs Geonhak had made against Seoho’s strength… there were very few things you couldn’t manage if you were desperate enough.

But the time Seoho had maneuvered them both away from the sick on the floor, the distant din of dark elves was growing loud at an alarming speed, much more chaotic and violent than it had been the first time.

Seoho squatted between Geonhak’s extended legs, pulling his arms over his shoulder and lifting until his chest was securely pressed to Seoho’s back. One hand held his wrists together, keeping him up, while the other braced underneath Geonhak to get his legs up on Seoho’s hips.

He stood quickly before he could slip off, forced to pend in half to let gravity help keep the limp body on his back, but it gave him the freedom to arrange Geonhak’s limbs in a way that wouldn’t put him in such danger of falling off.

In the end, Seoho got both hands to create a seat under Geonhak- his legs hanging as a dead weight, but it allowed Seoho to get him high enough on his back to let the weight of his arms hanging over his shoulders to be the counterweight, if Seoho leaned forward ever so slightly- just shy of being doubled over.

The first shriek made him jump, shuffling backwards into the dark corner and pressing them both there.

Dozens of dark elves tore down the hallway, so familiar in the way they clawed their way across the stone, more animalistic than humanoid as Seoho held his breath, listening to the slightly wheezing breaths of Geonhak in his ear that he could do nothing to quiet.

 _Do not die,_ he hissed in his head, adjusting Geonhak a little higher. _Do not die. Not after I actually got you back._

_Do not let me find you just to lose you again._

_You should have just died to begin with if you were just going to-_

He shook his head, feeling like he was suffocating in his own thoughts, the force of it almost making him stumble with the weight on his back. He was forced to press Geonhak’s back to the wall to keep his balance without his hands free.

 _Focus,_ he wanted to hiss, to smack his own forehead back into solid thought. _Just get the fuck out of here. Everything else can wait._

Seoho was so busy trying to get out of his own fucking head, he nearly missed when the final dark elf passed, leaving them in rapidly falling silence as they got further away.

He stumbled forward, taking a few steps before he managed to find the rhythm of his feet, making it to the door of the cell and bending in half to let gravity keep Geonhak up as he pressed a hand to the side of the door.

It opened.

Seoho adjusted Geonhak on his back to be more secure, and he ran.

~~~~~~~~~

“Hey.”

Seoho glanced up from his phone that he was scrolling through- a bite of rice halfway through his mouth as he was distracted by whatever video Hwanwoong had sent him.

Geonhak sat across from them, the cafeteria bustling with noise, though their entire table was devoid of anyone ambitious enough to try and sit by them. He was staring at Seoho with that familiar brand of not-emotional that usually meant there was some emotion he was reading particularly into.

“What?” he questioned flatly, lowering his spoon.

Geonhak said nothing for a moment, staring at Seoho’s face in a way that might have made him think that he was looking for something, save for the fact that Geonhak’s eyes didn’t shift in the slightest, locked on Seoho’s quietly.

Seoho merely lifted an expectant eyebrow, accustomed to the long silence and stares that preluded almost everything Geonhak did, like he was meticulously looking through each word before he said it.

“….Thanks.”

It was even and controlled, like he was carefully ensuring it was delivered in the proper way.

It sounded genuine. Almost achingly so.

Seoho frowned, straightening slightly. “For what?”

Geonhak shrugged one shoulder. “Everything.”

He snorted, lips twitching. “Have I done anything to warrant that? What ‘everything’?”

Geonhak didn’t look away like he might have, once. “I wasn’t exactly rolling in friends and mental stability before I met you,” Geonhak said bluntly. “So thanks.”

Seoho wanted to laugh, but it stuck in his throat. “Am I supposed to believe you’re mentally stable?” he questioned. “Or that any amount of that is attributed to me?”

“It’s all attributed to you.”

Seoho blinked, but Geonhak wasn’t laughing, staring at Seoho like it should have been obvious.

Seoho’s chest made an odd, irregular beat of his heart that… felt weird.

“I’ve never met someone with emotions that were… grounding,” Geonhak said carefully, searching for words with a gentle frown. “Yours are. The way you see and view the world… it’s grounding. From more than just the emotions swirling around me. Everything from my past, my current issues… You’ve made those better.”

“How?” Seoho couldn’t help but demand, a disbelieving laugh on his lips as he looked at Geonhak like he was insane. “I’m flattered that the mess that is my life could be a fable to you, but I don’t see how someone you’re teaching how to feel could possibly be fixing anything in your life.”

Geonhak… Geonhak’s lips twitched, like he was mentally shaking his head and asking how Seoho could be so blind.

Seoho’s heart skipped another bear annoyingly.

“I’ve had three nightmares since we met,” he said quietly. “You were there for all of them. You admitted to knowing… how much it changes things when you realize you’re not alone.”

Seoho opened his mouth, prepared to dispute it-

“You know more than anyone… the difference it makes when you realize you’re not alone,” he murmured, knowing and gentle.

Seoho closed his mouth, lips thinning.

“I’ve been more confident in turning my back on you than I have for anyone else… because you’ve given me more reasons to trust than anyone else has,” Geonhak went on, like reading off a list he had already prepared. “You are more genuine and honest than anyone I’ve met. You say that your life is a mess… but you’ve already seen mine. You’re crazy if you don’t think we’re both fucked up.”

Seoho was never under the impression that they weren’t. But still-

“In the same way I fight you about realizing that you are, inherently, different from the creatures we fight…” Geonhak lowered his eyes for a moment, staring at his tray. “You’ve never let me believe that I was alone. You’ve never let me think that there would ever be something I could say or do… that would result in me facing anything alone-“

“That’s not anything special,” Seoho finally broke in firmly, eyes narrowed skeptically. “I’m your partner- and a decent fucking person. That’s not something above and beyond. That’s not something to be praised for, when not doing that would just make me an asshole.”

He couldn’t see the expression in Geonhak’s eyes that kept staring at his tray, but he saw the ever-so-slight quirk to his lips, like he was once again shaking his head at Seoho, silently calling him an idiot.

He saw the way Geonhak’s hands flexed on the table.

“For someone who lost everything and everyone… it means something,” he murmured gently.

Seoho’s stomach dropped, turning his blood cold-

Geonhak looked up, expression controlled and shoulders slightly stiff, like he was pointedly holding something together. He locked eyes with Seoho again… and the expression in those eyes demanded that he listen well.

“Whether they were special… or anything above or beyond what was expected… That doesn’t matter,” he said quietly. “It means something to me… regardless of whether it means something to you or not.”

Seoho was pretty sure… that this was one of the most explicit conversations the two of them had had. Usually these topics were skirted around with meaningful looks and grateful slaps on the shoulder. Words were never used.

So Seoho felt like he had just missed a step in the dark.

Geonhak nodded, like that was all he wanted to say, taking a new bite of food as Seoho stared at him, trying to find what the fuck you were supposed to respond to that with.

In an absence of anything else… he merely dropped his eyes to his plate.

“You’re welcome,” he said, like the lame idiot that he was. “But seriously… I didn’t do it for any reason… except returning the favor for what you did to me.”

Those words, despite how true they were, tasted like ash on his tongue, like speaking honestly might cause him to burn away.

Geonhak chuckled quietly. “I know,” he answered like the asshole he was. “You weren’t used to be treated like a human being. You think that’s not considered the bare minimum?”

Seoho looked up sharply, feeling like he’d just been slapped, an argument on his tongue because of course that was different-

Seoho was a demonic.

Geonhak was normal.

It made sense that Seoho had been feared and hated, so-

Well… to everyone but Geonhak it made sense. Even to Seoho himself… no matter how angry that treatment had made him… he still understood it. Even as Geonhak tried to beat that out of him, forcibly tearing away those thoughts that lingered that said even if everyone else in the world wasn’t right… they were understandable.

_“It’s not understandable, it’s stupid,” Geonhak had snapped, slapping Seoho across the head sharply._

“I didn’t start this conversation to turn it into a competition,” Geonhak muttered, stirring his soup. “I’m just… making sure you understand.”

“Understand what?” Seoho couldn’t help but ask, staring over Geonhak’s shoulder at nothing, chest tight and skin warm.

“That I’m grateful. Regardless of what you call it… I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me.”

Seoho threw a fork at him, rolling his eyes. 

Geonhak knew what that meant, though.

It meant _Shut up, I know, you’re welcome._

It meant _Shut up, you should know by now that we’re friends._

It meant _Shut up, you know I can’t listen to or say those things properly because I lived a life where those kinds of words didn’t exist…_

It meant _Thanks, even if I can’t say it._

~~~~~~~~~~

It was almost impressive how much you didn’t need to utilize stealth when you were on your home turf.

On the surface, the only time stealth was necessary was to sneak up on an enemy. If you got found out, you had your partners, your team, and your own powers to blow whatever creature you needed to out of the water, uncaring for those that you alerted on the way.

Seoho’s partner was unconscious on his back, his team was God-knew-how-far away in their own danger, and his powers would immediately give away their position in the shadows. If someone noticed, Seoho did not have the manpower to fight off an entire Hellscape of dark elves.

So he moved as quickly and quietly as he could manage- always staying a hallway back, waiting until the dark elves had turned a corner before following, lest one of them glance back and see him trailing.

Despite the icy air, he was sweating- both with exertion and stress, constantly fighting against the fog that tried to creep into his mind stubbornly. Seoho thought for a moment that it might be from Geonhak, but it didn’t feel _foreign_. Not in the same way Geonhak’s emotions did.

It felt like it was coming from Seoho- in the way that panic and helplessness and fear clouded his head- but it… it was more persistent, like someone whispering in his ear all the things that he kept trying not to think about.

He split his focus between keeping Geonhak on his back and keeping his head from wandering to… wherever the fuck that cloudy sensation was.

Seoho jumped when a rattling breath sounded in his ear, Geonhak’s body tensing on his back, and Seoho had to automatically tighten his hold to ensure the shift didn’t throw him off-

The panicked movement didn’t come, though, as Seoho expected.

The only thing to tell Geonhak had regained consciousness was the shift in his breath and the slight tension that ran through his previously limp limbs. They still hung uselessly, though. Even conscious, Seoho was still the only thing keeping him up.

“W…Wh…ere…” Geonhak sounded like he was talking through cotton, his voice only a breath that was nearly lost in the distant sound of the elves in front of them and the quiet sound of Seoho’s feet.

“Shut up,” Seoho breathed back, pausing at a turn and checking to ensure the dark elves were far enough ahead. “If you fucking throw up blood on me, I’m never forgiving you,” he whispered under his breath, sure that Geonhak didn’t hear.

But Geonhak laughed. As best he could, at least- which meant it was more like a slightly harsher breath than the one before it.

“You… You wanted to know…” he breathed, taking a break to breathe shallow and quick, though still so, so quiet. “… how… how bad it was…”

Seoho’s grit his teeth, forcing himself not to tighten his hands into fists. Geonhak had the nerve to try and make it sound like a joke.

“It… It‘s bad,” he breathed, a wave of tension running through his muscles before they went slack again. That, as well as the barest hint of fear in his voice, completely ruined whatever joke might have been had.

Seoho resisted the urge to snap that he was sorry he couldn’t do anything, but he held it back, physically biting his tongue as another wave of helplessness tried to shove his brain back into the fog.

He ran a little faster, closing the distance between them and the elves ever so slightly.

Geonhak saying it- joking or not- was enough for Seoho to fight waves of his own fear.

“Not-“ He winced. “Not to make… you feel… feel guilty,” he rasped quietly, another rattling breath. “But… I… I can’t concentrate enough… to b-block out… emotions right now.”

Seoho nearly stumbled, narrowly avoiding a dip in the floor as he forced his eyes to stay forward, not looking back at Geonhak.

He wasn’t blocking emotions.

Dark elf emotions weren’t an issue, but Seoho was a fucking screaming beacon right in Geonhak’s ear, in a location when that screaming beacon- though always annoying- was armed with knives.

“That’s… why… it’s bad…” he panted breathlessly, losing breath just by speaking.

Seoho didn’t respond, focusing on his own breathing, forcing his body to take slow breaths in and then letting them out.

Controlling his emotions had never been Seoho’s strong suit. It had never even been on a list of things he was _capable_ of doing, much less able to do on command. Usually, having Geonhak beside him made it easier because it felt more balanced, safer, easier… but now Geonhak was the thing throwing him off- the pressure to level his emotions out only making the tightness in his chest grow more constricting when it didn’t immediately work.

If Geonhak noticed Seoho on the verge of falling into a panic attack over his own helplessness, he didn’t say anything.

At least, Seoho thought he just wasn’t saying anything, but then the slight tension running through Geonhak’s limbs suddenly fell away, and he knew he’d passed out again, needing to shift his weight slightly to keep upright.

The air was too cold, burning his lungs. His blood felt like ice was slowly flooding through it, making him shake. He felt like something was physically sucking the warmth out of him, making his legs feel unsteady, icy and frigid like… like his skin did when he used his powers but… but a hundred times worse.

For the first time… Seoho felt a true, unfiltered stab of cold fear in his chest.

For the first time, he didn’t fight it, letting his mind process exactly what he was feeling, what it meant… and what he realized along with it.

He was fucking terrified.

Being terrified meant that he wasn’t thinking clearly. He hadn’t been thinking clearly from the moment they came down here. He’d constantly been fighting a fog, a chill- everything around him feeling like a threat breathing down his neck, his own powers reflected in every part of this Hellscape.

Even now, when he needed clarity the most, it seemed like every breath he took, every step he took was just added more weight to his lungs, more ice to his veins that he’d never experienced before coming down here-

Something was wrong with down here.

Whether it was entirely in Seoho’s head or not… the Hellscape was fucking with him somehow. He didn’t know if it had to do with being… being _of_ this place, being demonic… or maybe it was just a combination of everything-

But Seoho knew that even this… Even finding Geonhak like this, even being this helpless... should not be doing this to him.

And with that thought- that the emotions running through him weren’t entire his own, weren’t entirely of his own volition… Seoho felt a tiny sliver of control slip back into his hand.

The fog clinging to his head was an enemy, just like any he had fought before.

Being your own enemy… that was hard. That was terrifying. Seoho had always struggled with that.

Beating the shit out of an external force that was trying to fuck with him and his team?

That…

That, he could do.

It was so much easier to slap away the fog when he knew it wasn’t just him. It was easier to breathe through the weight on his chest when he knew it wasn’t just his own panic. It was easier to push forward when he realized it wasn’t just his own inadequacies and failing yanking him backwards.

Over the course of the next few hallways, his heart finally slowed to an acceptable level, his breathing coming through his lungs that felt less like they were being crushed. The fog still clung to the edges of his mind, but it was easier to ignore- focusing on the weight of Geonhak on his back and the pattern of his feet hitting the ground.

He focused on the fact that Geonhak was breathing, not that it was ragged and rough.

He focused on the distance ahead of them, not on the creeping sensations in his veins.

He focused on his own breath, not the ice filling his lungs from the air.

Suddenly, they were standing in hallways more well-lit, holding more prisoners, and Seoho kept a further distance.

He was fairly sure Geonhak had woken up again, but he was entirely still and silent on Seoho’s back, thankfully. The hallways they crept through grew shorter, more familiar, brighter.

Seoho peeked around one corner and saw the elves passing through the large set of bars that was their way out of here.

For a moment, he felt a spike of uncontrollable fear (he felt Geonhak flinch on his back, shoving the emotion back down with rationale). The rest of their team was through those bars, but they wouldn’t have been stupid enough to stay standing directly in front of them.

The dark elves wouldn’t find them.

The final creature passed through the bars, leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.

“Fucking finally,” he breathed, not realizing how tired his arms were or how much his back hurt from the position he’d had to run in. He waited another moment, ensuring no one was going to come back through.

Geonhak’s breathing told Seoho he was awake.

“I’m going to have to break this door, too,” he murmured, leaning against the wall for a moment, breathing evenly. “And that’s probably going to piss a lot of people off.”

He heard Geonhak swallow, crackly and thick. “Wait,” he breathed against Seoho’s heart, voice fading fast. “Let them… get a dis…tance away…”

Seoho didn’t want to wait, but he nodded slowly, counting to 50 in his head.

Making a mad sprint for the surface wasn’t going to be their best bet. The longer they were here, the more creatures would notice and the more they’d have to fight through… but they needed a better plan. They were at too much of a disadvantage.

Which meant Seoho would go through that door, find the others, and locate somewhere they could hide in the shadows while they tried to figure something the fuck out.

Seoho reached 50.

He rushed forward, bent in half to let gravity hold Geonhak in place as he threw a hand out, watching a fireball break through the bars that separated them from the outside.

The resulting explosion would attract people faster than an alarm ever could, so Seoho didn’t pause before leaping over the rubble, catching Geonhak with his hand again and rushing into the darkness.

The black fog clung to them, and Seoho didn’t have the hands to hold a light out to guide them through it.

However… this black fog that was probably meant to disorient and get people lost from either getting into or out of the prison… very likely would hide them from the dark elves searching for them.

Like everything else down here… Seoho made a random choice because he had no other information. He turned right and began walking through the darkness.

“ _Guys_ ,” He hissed, not willing to raise his voice for whatever might be hiding around them.

He wandered, rushing through the dark in a methodically straight line, refusing to get lost, knowing that the prison was directly behind him. Time was their enemy, now, though.

“Light,” Geonhak breathed, barely audible, even pressed right to Seoho’s ear. “Make it… quick…”

Seoho grit his teeth, but obeyed, using one hand to throw a large fireball into the darkness, watching it part like grass in the wind and then disappear-

At the very edge of the ball’s path, he saw a figure shrink away from the light, jerking back into the shadows-

“Guys!” he hazarded a shout, rushing forward, nearly forcing Geonhak off his back.

A handful of steps later, and Seoho was tripping over a leg in the darkness.

His stomach flipped as he stumbled, Geonhak’s deadweight working against him-

Arms caught him, pinning Geonhak to his back and keeping him up as a voice in his ear breathed out in a rush of relief- “ _Finally._ ”

Dongju helped Seoho get his feet back under him, his face barely able to be seen through the darkness around them, but the discomfort could still be clearly seen as he stepped back once Seoho was steady. His eyes drifted up to Geonhak, frowning.

“Holy shit, you got him,” Dongju whispered, Seoho turning-

Without the light, it was nearly impossible to see what wasn’t directly in front of his face, but he could make out the shapes of Hwanwoong and Keonhee-

“Where’s Youngjo?” he demanded, shifting Geonhak on his back, trying to free one hand again.

When Dongju flinched, Seoho looked down, at where he had tripped.

Youngjo lay on the floor, head pillowed by Dongju’s jacket. There was still blood around his mouth, but there was another smear near his nose, like someone had wiped it away. His skin was still pale, eyes closed, lips parted and dry-

“He passed out a while after you left,” Dongju whispered, eyes flickering around the darkness. “He wakes up every now and then, but… he’s out of it.”

Seoho could see the red on Dongju’s lips from where he’d been biting them, his hands already twisted together, white knuckled and stiff.

They were now two people down, and still no way of knowing how the fuck to get out of here.

Seoho didn’t let panic settle in his veins, not lingering on that thought.

“Okay, we’re getting the fuck out of here,” he breathed, all of them huddling close. “Hwanwoong… what’s the likelihood of you being able to make a portal without killing yourself?”

Hwanwoong’s expression hardened in such a way that Seoho knew even if he thought it would kill him, he’d still try.

“It’s clear we’re working against a time limit. Youngjo couldn’t turn his off, and it’s fucking him over,” Seoho said quickly. “But Geonhak has been using his powers in bursts. We might have a chance-“

“Small… weak bursts,” Geonhak breathed in Seoho’s ear, making him jump. “Long pauses… in between. Still… fucks you up… pretty bad.”

Hwanwoong’s eyes darkened. “I can’t get us all the way back to the surface without being able to see it,” he said, voice crisp as a soldier’s. “But if you can light up the way up, I can get us back to that level we came in at.”

“Plants,” Keonhee volunteered, eyes narrowed in uncharacteristic ferocity. “I can start getting us back to the surface.”

Seoho opened his mouth to protest, to change plans-

“I can’t really help get us get up there,” Dongju said, fists clenched with that helplessness as his eyes burned angrily. “But I can carry Youngjo, no problem.”

It might be a slight problem, but Seoho still went to shake his head.

“We can’t have all of us out of commission,” Seoho said firmly. “It’s not going to be a small burst of power to get back to the surface, it could kill you-“

“What part of being down here makes you think we don’t know that?” Hwanwoong demanded, hands planting on his hips in annoyance.

Seoho felt like someone had just pulled a rug out from under him.

He stared, blinking-

Hwanwoong’s eyes narrowed. “You think we came down here with any expectation we’d be getting back out?”

Seoho’s throat closed up.

Keonhee clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “Maybe getting back to the surface fucks us up permanently. Maybe we die on the way. It’s either that, with the chance of survival… or we roll over and die down here. Which completely defeats the purpose of risking our lives in the first place.”

Seoho opened his mouth, but nothing came out, heart wrenching-

“He’s your partner,” Dongju said seriously. “But he’s our friend, too. And our partners are down here, too. You think we’re going to let ourselves die down here… just because it’s gonna be hard to get to the surface?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes at Seoho’s stupidity.

Seoho felt like he couldn’t breathe.

It wasn’t… a bad feeling, though.

In the same way he’d been trying to leap down here on his own… Seoho was slammed in the stomach with the realization… that he really, really wasn’t alone anymore.

You’d think that after five years, he’d realize he could trust these people. And he did trust them- with his life and more… but it was…

Even an eternity was hard pressed to erase a lifetime alone.

Geonhak was Seoho’s partner, so he was Seoho’s problem. Seoho’s emotional stuntedness was his own problem. His issues were his own problem. His decisions and the consequences of those were his own problem.

It was his problem. No one else should have to get involved.

But… his problems… were his team’s problems, too. Geonhak was their friend, too. They were the ones beside him, practically begging him to let them help with those problems he had labeled his own.

Seoho knew all this.

But when you were foggy headed, panicked, alone, afraid, lost- It was… It was easy to forget to look around you, when you were so focused on what you were heading into.

But even Seoho, as touched and sick as he was with gratitude at these people he found…

Seoho couldn’t ask them to die for them. He’d rather be stuck down here… than to let anyone here die.

But staying down here was killing them. It was even doing something to Seoho…

He did not cry. But he wished he had the emotional space to be able to.

“Hwanwoong can get us up to the top,” Keonhee said firmly, setting his words in stone, and it wasn’t until that moment that Seoho realized… nothing short of knocking them unconscious was going to stop them.

Geonhak suddenly seemed as if he weighed nothing, Seoho feeling as he was beginning to float.

“We know that those rooms lead directly to the surface,” Keonhee went on as Hwanwoong and Dongju were already lifting Youngjo onto Dongju’s back. “Once we get there… I can get us up, but we shouldn’t rely on the fact that I can get us all the way-“

“I can get us started,” Seoho said, tongue numb and heart pounding away at his chest as he struggled to keep those emotions in check.

Everyone turned to him.

“I can’t keep that much weight on a shield for that long, but… I should be able to boost us up a good distance.”

The pain from their powers hadn’t hit until they actually entered the Hellscape, so once they get through that hole in the ceiling… they should be free to use them, right? But Seoho didn’t want to know how long the effects of down here lasted, and they couldn’t afford to rely on pure hope.

Hwanwoong chuckled nervously. “I guess having you be able to freely use your powers still isn’t a free pass to getting out of here easily.”

Seoho wet his lips slowly, adjusting Geonhak’s weight. “I think being down here is doing something to me.”

Three pairs of eyes stared at him in stunned silence, everyone falling entirely still.

Seoho hadn’t realized Geonhak was conscious until he felt him stiffen against his back.

Seoho rushed through the words, knowing that they didn’t have time for anything in depth.

“I don’t know how much or anything, but I’ve been feeling like… like my head keeps going foggy,” he blurted out. “I keep feeling panicky- like everything’s out of balance, and I thought it was just trying to find our way through unknown territory, but… I think this place is fucking with my head.”

Hwanwoong’s jaw tightened, like he might be able to fight the Hellscape itself.

“I don’t know if it’s just me being weird about being demonic or if being demonic is actually causing this place to… I don’t know, seep inside of me?” he guessed, rolling his neck to show how insane that sounded.

“Is it hurting?” Keonhee questioned slowly.

Seoho shook his head. “No, but… it’s making it hard to concentrate. I think I’ll be fine, but… it’s been getting worse, even after I figured out how to ignore it better.”

It was almost impossible to think they’d only been down here a few hours. Maybe a single day, at most.

Dongju’s eyes were set in stone. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

“I’ll be even better when we get the fuck out of here,” Seoho confessed, hiking Geonhak higher onto his back. “If we’re doing this, we need to go now. I’m sure those things are already looking for us.”

“We need to get back to the area that leads up to the levels,” Hwanwoong said, stepping closer to Dongju in case he needed help. “I might need to make a couple portals to get us all the way back up there.”

Seoho turned away, facing an unforgivable wall of shadow.

He held Geonhak up with one hand, the other gathering a molten ball of hellfire.

“Let’s go, then,” he muttered, throwing the ball as high into the air as his strength could manage.

The four of them watched the darkness part around the ball, reaching only darkness for a moment before the very edges of the paths that spiraled around the cavern illuminated in a blue hue.

Hwanwoong was ready before the hellfire had even begun to fizzle out, the floor dropping away from Seoho’s feet and his vision turning a violent purple.

They fell, and Seoho held onto Geonhak like something might reach out and snatch him away.

He wouldn’t let go.

He couldn’t afford to.

~~~~~~~~~

“Do you ever… think about leaving?”

Seoho lifted his head from his pillow, glancing over at Geonhak, though he couldn’t see anything through the nighttime between their beds.

“Leaving…?” he ventured slowly, frowning slightly at the chosen topic at 1AM after a mission.

“The agency.” 

Seoho laid back down, staring up at the ceiling. He hummed slowly, unfazed by the random question. Geonhak was full of random questions.

“I used to,” he admitted. “I used to fantasize about it, despite nothing actually holding me here. It was therapeutic when things started sucking bad enough.”

Seoho had spent countless hours contemplating it… but he’d been more afraid of what the outside world held than the bigoted teammates he was shoved in with.

“Not anymore, though,” he assured him quietly, shrugging. “I don’t want to leave anymore.”

Geonhak’s voice was quiet, like he was holding onto a secret he didn’t want to let slip.

“What changed?” he whispered into the distance between them.

Seoho closed his eyes for a moment, opening them slowly. He was only able to answer because of the darkness that hid him from sight.

If there’s been any chance Geonhak could see him, Seoho would have clammed up. But… as it was… the darkness was his protection for the truth.

“I met you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m having so much fun writing this one! It was killing me to have the two of them separated for so long ㅠㅠㅠ  
> I hope you all enjoyed it! I’m sorry for hurting Geonhak so much- I swear I love him lol~  
> I hope I can have the next chapter done on time, but it may take a bit longer ㅠㅠ 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter, lovelies!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!  
> -SS


	5. By Your Flame, I Would Gladly Burn A Thousand Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy to actually start writing the two of them meeting up again!  
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter, so I hope you all enjoy it, too!  
> Thank you all so much for all the love you’ve given this fic- I appreciate every part of it so much!!!   
> (^ㅅ^)  
> Please let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading! 
> 
> Stay safe, lovelies!  
> -SS

Seoho’s feet hit solid ground, the force of it nearly upsetting his balance as he caught himself with one hand, jerking back upright before Geonhak could flip off his back.

In a glance, he took in their position standing on a path, a considerable distance up from where they had been, but nowhere near the top- the spiral of stone paths stretching beneath and above them.

There were no dark elves anywhere around them, but at Hwanwoong’s choked cry, the tiny specks of them milling around began to slow, turning towards the sound that didn’t belong in their hive of activity.

When Seoho looked at their group, huddled on the small platform, Hwanwoong slumped over Keonhee’s arm, face pale and one hand fisted in Keonhee’s shirt hard enough to threaten to tear it, expression twisted like he was trying to stop himself from screaming.

Dongju steadied himself on the wall, Youngjo’s eyes open and hazy as he did his best to hold on so that Dongju could focus elsewhere.

Seoho didn’t have time to take stock of whether Geonhak was conscious or not, opening his mouth to ask Hwanwoong what exactly he was feeling-

Keonhee murmured something to him, but Hwanwoong shook his head, tilting his head up that was clammy with sweat, eyes aiming upwards- across the cavern at the highest point he could see without a swarm of dark elves near it.

“Just hold on a minute,” Keonhee begged in a slight panic, but Hwanwoong was already thrusting a hand towards the ground, determination lighting his eyes a dangerous shade of anger.

Even outside of the Hellscape, the more people Hwanwoong took with him through portals, the more exhausting it was.

They fell through the portal at their feet once more, and Seoho was a bit better prepared to catch himself upon dropping out of it.

They’d hardly touched the ground before Hwanwoong slipped from Keonhee’s arm, falling to his hands and knees against the rough stone, breathing ragged as he spit blood from his mouth, eyes screwed shut as his fingertips dug into the sharp stone as a distraction from the pain.

“Stop,” Keonhee hissed, dropping to his knees to hold onto Hwanwoong’s shoulder tightly, angry eyes warring with the fear in his expression. “Take a breath- You’re going to kill yourself before we get to the top-“

Hwanwoong choked on a cry of pain, forehead pressing to the ground, shoulders shaking-

“He said small bursts!” Keonhee snapped when Hwanwoong lifted a hand blindly, still practically curled on the ground.

“ _Hwanwoong-_ “ 

Dongju’s snap was cut off as they dropped through the floor again.

Seoho hit the ground already yelling at Hwanwoong, heart slowly crushing at the rush of blood from the dual’s mouth.

“-stop for just a fucking second!” Seoho snapped, wishing he had enough hands to smack him. “We can run for a few levels, just-“

They had been noticed.

Seoho cut off as a hoard of dark elves suddenly poured out of a cave opening further up the path they were standing on- screeching in rage or triumph as they tore through the stone to reach them- crawling along the walls like insects clinging to tree limbs.

It was all happening too fast, no time to breath, no time to think, to worry-

“Don’t,” Keonhee threatened angrily, looking moments away from striking Hwanwoong- pain be damned. “If you fucking die-“

Hwanwoong lifted his eyes that were barely focused, squinting upwards. “I c-can get… get u-us-“

Time may be their enemy, but Seoho wasn’t about to let it be the cause of anyone’s death. He went to crouch down, maybe to try and knock Hwanwoong unconscious if he was going to continue being fucking suicidal.

Hwanwoong didn’t finish his sentence, though- simply shutting his eyes with a violent gag, and they fell one more time.

Seoho knew Hwanwoong was in no condition to be throwing six people through a portal. He knew his aim was skewed, that he was barely able to see much less effectively aim.

He his arm was already shooting out- grabbing Keonhee around the collar where he was dropped just a little too close to the edge, one foot slipping from the path before Seoho threw his bodyweight against him- stumbling into the wall with a silent apology to Geonhak who cushioned his back as Keonhee stared wide-eyed at the spot he’d nearly fallen from.

Seoho’s heart was racing a little too fast as he let Keonhee to.

He tried to get his eyes to focus, but everything seemed fuzzy- a lag between his eyes seeing and his brain processing.

He saw Keonhee kneeling beside Hwanwoong, who wasn’t moving, but it took him too long to process what that meant.

He heard a shriek, but it sounded too distant to be a threat-

A flash of white struck across his vision and Seoho jumped, watching a dark elf tumble from the path with a shrieking death cry of pain- his body burning in white flame as it disappeared over the edge.

White… flame.

When Geonhak vomited blood over Seoho’s shoulder, Seoho could tell that he was cursing, that he was berating, that he was threatening Geonhak with everything he could possible think of for being so fucking stupid as to use his powers again-

“Who else… is… watching… your back?” Geonhak breathed, a faint sound hidden beneath Seoho’s yelling anger. He sounded amused, and Seoho hated him.

By the third round of cursing, he knew Geonhak was unconscious again, but he kept going because it was grounding. It felt like he was doing something.

“ _Seoho._ ”

He shut up, staring at Dongju who was glaring at him, jerking his head towards the cave they stood next to.

Seoho looked up, and he saw the same black ceiling that they’d seen upon their first arrival, no more paths above them.

Keonhee had already situated Hwanwoong on his back, blood trickling from the unconscious boy’s nose- a pale, veiny blue tinge to his skin that made Seoho wonder if he was getting enough oxygen.

“We gotta go!” Dongju snapped when Seoho still hadn’t moved, looking prepared to kick him in the knees if he didn’t move _right fucking now-_

Seoho ran. Dongju followed. Keonhee was already in front of them.

They didn’t care about subtly or stealth. They only cared about putting distance between them and the shrieking behind them, and keeping those unconscious from slipping off. Seoho kept shaking his head, fighting the fog at the edge of it that was beginning to creep over his eyes- making it hard to focus on anything but staring ahead to make sure he didn’t run over Keonhee.

“Check one of these rooms,” Keonhee panted, hiking Hwanwoong up higher.

Keonhee may not be weak, but none of them were exactly used to having to sprint with their partners on their backs for any amount of time. Dongju was breathing almost was heavily as Youngjo on his back, sweat dripping off his brow.

Seoho couldn’t think about the fact that his back was almost entirely numb. He just kept moving, using momentum to keep his feet going in front of each other.

They halted in whatever hallway they deemed far enough away, Seoho placing a flaming palm against the nearest wooden door that disappeared seamlessly into stone.

The room was nearly identical to the one they’d dropped into from the surface, save for the fact there was no hole in the roof- only what looked like sleeping mats shoved into corners, like a bedroom with nothing but beds.

They ran, stopping every few doors to test the doors, but they were all bedrooms, or completely empty with no tunnel to escape through.

By the eighth door, Seoho’s arm was unable to keep holding Geonhak up on its own while his other opened the doors, his arm trembling and then giving out under Geonhak’s weight. Only doubling over into almost a crouch saved him from letting Geonhak hit the ground, and he had to adjust his position again- relying on gravity to keep the other in place as he ran while bent entirely in half.

He blinked sweat from his eyes, shivering from the ice in his veins that he couldn’t thaw out.

At the twelfth door, he nearly threw up from the wave of dizziness that washed over him, making him stumble both him and Geonhak into the wall, needing to breath through his nose to keep from throwing up at the sudden wave of nausea that followed. Everything suddenly seemed like it was spinning-

“-a tunnel!” Dongju yelled, despite everyone standing right beside him, bursting into the room and standing beneath a hole much smaller than the one they’d entered through, looking up into it.

His expression dropped, though, as he looked at Seoho with something like horror, but Seoho knew they were too close to getting out for him to slow them down with something as minor as nausea. And whatever else was wrong with his appearance from it.

He walked forward- aware that he probably wasn’t walking in a straight line- but he made it beside Dongju, Keonhee gathering under the opening as well.

The distant sound of dark elves screaming echoed around the hard stone, making Seoho shiver, like a trickle of ice water running down his spine as his lungs heaved in frigid air that burned worse with every breath, making his vision grow cloudy- the fog turning to dark edges creeping across his vision.

Seoho was entirely sure he was suddenly minutes from passing out.

“Huddle close,” he ordered, but it came out breathless and weak. Rough and papery and shallow as glancing up as best he could, seeing the slightly narrow opening.

They had dropped down in pairs, but this tunnel was smaller and they all needed to fit through it at once.

“Keonhee…” Seoho craned his neck to be able to see him while hunched over. “Are you sure-“

“Just get us started,” Keonhee said, eyes set in molten steel, one hand extended towards the ground, waiting. His hand was shaking.

Seoho knew that everyone here… was scared. _He_ was fucking scared.

It was a long way to the surface and no way to know if they had enough life left between the six of them to make it there.

But there wasn’t time to be afraid for long.

They huddled together like those penguins in documentaries- chests pressed together and squeezing against each other to ensure they all fit through the hole. Seoho could feel Dongju’s slightly panicked breathing that wasn’t entirely from the exertion of holding Youngjo.

He felt Keonhee shaking from something that wasn’t entirely the sudden chill in the air.

Seoho blinked, but the dark edges of his vision grew thicker, making the room spin so violently, he nearly stumbled out of their little circle- swaying on his feet dangerously with the uneven weight on his back.

He didn’t know what was happening to him.

It felt like… like he was slowly losing his shape. Like his legs and arms and spine were slowly turning to softened dough, spreading out and dissipating into the Hellscape-

Like parts of him were trying to fade back to where they came from.

He felt like water poured out on a surface, no bones, no muscles to keep him together as he lost the shape of himself-

“Just go,” Dongju said, squeezing in even tighter, eyes afraid but set in stone. “We either make it or we don’t. No use waiting.”

Seoho didn’t have the mental capacity to argue. He also didn’t know how much longer he had before he passed out entirely, and he _needed_ to ensure they were out of here before that happened.

He thrusted a hand at the ground, immediately feeling like someone had just injected his veins with liquid nitrogen- a painful cold like he had never felt before suddenly making it feel like someone was threading a needle through his veins-

A disc of energy appeared beneath their feet, shooting them upwards.

Usually, these shields were just used to throw Geonhak across a distance. But suddenly it was supporting six people’s weight, lifting straight up.

Seoho couldn’t sway or stumble- there was no room in the tiny tunnel without the risk of pushing Geonhak into a wall, but there was dirt rushing passed them, and Seoho felt his ears pop with the effort of lifting the platform.

Seoho didn’t feel his muscles give out, he didn’t feel the shield disappear, but he felt the moment they suddenly slowed down and started dropping back down, his stomach disappearing-

A vine wrapped around him and Geonhak, yanking them the other direction so sharply, Seoho tasted bile in the back of his throat and he had to close his eyes to keep from blacking out. He distinctly heard the agonized sound from Keonhee as the plants suddenly disappeared, breaking apart-

The vines reappeared immediately, Seoho feeling warmth speckle across his neck as Keonhee coughed violently- the vines practically throwing them upwards as they were forced to retract without enough power behind them-

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dongju throw a ball of darkness back down the tunnel with a furious, raging yell- the distant chaos of dark elves that Seoho hadn’t noticed following after them suddenly being silenced.

Seoho caught them on a shield again, thrusting back upwards as hard as he could, a horrific tension in his chest suddenly snapping painfully, like a rubber band breaking-

He blacked out.

He tried really, really hard not to.

But one moment, he felt them shooting upwards, his breathing suddenly too shallow and too fast…

And then he felt like he was floating.

It wasn’t a good floating, though.

It was like laying in a lake filled with ice. It felt like swallowing and breathing in frozen air. It felt like falling through the ice over a pond and not being able to find your way back out.

Seoho was drowning in ice.

And for the first time… after a lifetime of feeling ice like it was the blood inside his veins… that sensation made him afraid.

~~~~~~~~~

Geonhak shoved Seoho off where Seoho had been trying to put his arm around him, annoying him about…

Well, Seoho didn’t remember what he had annoyed him about. He annoyed him about a lot of stuff.

But Geonhak shoved him off before his arm could even manage to snake around his shoulders, which only made Seoho laugh harder, doubled over he rushed to keep pace as Geonhak rolled his eyes, talking about something Seoho wasn’t listening to.

Geonhak picked up his pace, getting a few steps ahead of Seoho.

Seoho paused for only a moment before taking a run leap onto Geonhak’s back.

He stumbled, an annoyed sound snapping from his mouth, but Seoho was too busy playing a very high-stakes game of bucking bronco, legs wrapped around Geonhak’s waist tightly as he cackled in his ear at the other smacking his legs, trying to peel Seoho’s arms from around his neck-

It was probably a good thing they were outside, given that Geonhak’s next move was to completely collapse into the grass, when yanking Seoho off proved ineffective.

Oh, but Seoho had already committed.

Geonhak expected Seoho to let go, but he merely held on tighter- laying with Geonhak on top of him suffocatingly, but this was now a matter of pride as Geonhak froze for a moment, realizing that Seoho wasn’t going to immediately let go.

“Oh, you fucking-“

Geonhak’s next strategy was to roll around as violently as possible, smacking Seoho’s arms around his neck that refused to release, and he heard Geonhak’s annoyance slowly start bleeding into disbelieving laughter that Seoho was dragging this on for so long.

Seoho hadn’t stopped crackling.

It wasn’t even that funny. But most of the time… the things that made Seoho unable to stop laughing weren’t that funny.

Seoho rarely laughed when things were funny.

Seoho laughed… when the sensation in his chest couldn’t be kept in anymore.

He’d already told Geonhak about the sensation, when he’d asked about that weird shade of violet that sometimes popped up. Like there was a helium balloon slowly expanding in his chest, pressing against his lungs.

He’d been afraid of the feeling at first, the light pressure making it hard to breathe, making him almost lightheaded with the bubble expanding in his chest. Geonhak had been the one to walk him through him, explaining that… it wasn’t a negative emotion.

Now, Seoho was rolling around on the ground with his arms around someone’s neck… and there was no fear here.

Seoho was used to people backing away, turning their backs, eyes tracking him from the moment he entered a room, because his mere presence was a threat to people. His very existence was dangerous, and he… was nothing but a ticking time bomb, to them.

Seoho had learned very early on that fighting back was not a luxury he had.

He also learned very early on that joking around? Those schoolyard play fights and teenage meet ups where people tested their powers tentatively? Would most likely end with people assuming he’d finally snapped.

If Seoho had even thought about wrapping an arm around someone’s neck?

He’d have five people restraining him before he’d even blinked.

Geonhak wasn’t actually struggling. He wasn’t sitting here, waiting for Seoho to hurt him. He wasn’t trying to escape because he felt threatened. He was trying to escape so that he could kick Seoho’s ass for being annoying.

And that freedom?

That knowledge?

That trust?

It made the helium in his chest almost painful, in the best way possible.

Geonhak finally managed to buck his hips hard enough to twist free of Seoho’s legs, slipping his legs through the gap he’d created- kicking up and flipping himself over Seoho completely until he broke the grip Seoho had on his neck.

He now stared down at Seoho triumphantly, but Seoho had already cut his losses and shot to his feet, racing across the grass towards the compound’s main building.

He heard Geonhak running after him.

“You’re such a child!” he yelled, but the anger was lost in the faux-annoyed amusement that softened his tone.

Seoho looked back, grinning, that sensation in his chest growing tenfold, watching Geonhak race after him with a smile stretched across his face, like Seoho was a challenge he wouldn’t fail to beat.

That sensation?

It almost entirely hid the way Seoho’s heart kept skipping beats.

Almost.

~~~~~~~~~

A woman screamed where she was sweeping concrete rubble off the patio of her shop.

It wasn’t the sweeping or the rubble that made her scream, but the sudden explosion that erupted from the crater ten feet away from her front door.

She was already sprinting for the door, prepared to raise the alarm for dark elves once more-

She froze, however, one hand braced against her door, at the sounds behind her. Sounds that didn’t belong to dark elves and hell creatures. She whipped back around, pressing her back to the door, but she didn’t seen a swarm of creatures crawling from the crater like disgusting insects from a hill.

She saw half a dozen human boys laying on the asphalt, face down and alarmingly still as wisps of light energy disappeared from around them into the air, like fog dispersing in sunlight.

She jerked forward, mouth open to ask what the hell was going on, but then one of them moved- rolling onto his side that dislodged one of the unconscious boys that had been on their back. The unconscious one had wings.

The other boy got onto his elbows with what looked like considerable effort, meeting her eyes across the short distance between them, pale and arms trembling under his own weight.

She clutched her chest, never seeing someone so young in such a state.

“Call… the agency,” he panted, glancing around at the others… apparently, the only one of his group still conscious.

At least, he was until his arms gave out and he collapsed sideways onto the boy with wings.

She stood for a moment, too shocked to move as her eyes traced over the blood covering nearly every piece of skin across the six boys, the way their skin looked sickly pale in the afternoon light, the dust and tears to their clothing, the way they were all shivering despite the warmth weather-

She jerked open the door of her shop and grabbed the nearest phone, hands shaking as he dialed it in.

She stepped up to the window, staring out at the six of them with wide eyes, hands shaking.

“Headquarters? Yes, I… I’ve got six half-dead heroes on my patio.”

~~~~~~~~~

The best part about most nightmares?

It wasn’t often that they woke you up screaming, so they were easy to hide from people, even when you jerked awake with your heart racing like you were moments away from dying.

At least, it was easy to hide if your roommate wasn’t an empath who jerked awake with you.

Seoho had already turned onto his side, turning his back to the room as he heard Geonhak sit up slowly, blearily looking over Seoho whose heart was still pounding so hard it hurt, eyes shut tight like it might calm his breathing faster.

He heard Geonhak throw his covers back across the small room, and Seoho brought his covers up slowly, tucking his head down, despite the fact that it made him feel ten years old all over again, ignoring his mom as she asked what was wrong.

It wasn’t the first nightmare he’d had in Geonhak’s presence, but different nightmares made you feel different things.

This one made him want to crawl into a hole. 

He heard Geonhak approach slowly, clearly trying not to startle him, as Seoho usually did when Geonhak had nightmares. And maybe it made him hypocritical that he had felt compelled to help Geonhak through his nightmares but refused to even lift his head for his own…

Seoho couldn’t help instinct, though.

He expected Geonhak to speak or try and prompt him into speaking, but there was only silence.

Seoho’s bed dipped as Geonhak sat on the edge of it, still not speaking, but there was no way Geonhak thought he was asleep. Seoho still didn’t look, clenching his eyes shut like it might ward off Geonhak’s concern that was practically tangible.

His breaths were uneven, but he chose to ignorantly believe Geonhak couldn’t tell. As if physically hiding an emotion did any good around him.

He felt Geonhak settle in, one of his hands braced on the mattress and the other landing feather-light on Seoho’s arm with the blanket between them.

It took all of five minutes for Seoho to realize Geonhak wasn’t going to speak.

He simply sat there, so quiet that Seoho might have forgotten he was there, save for the gentle weight on his arm.

A reminder that he wasn’t alone.

Seoho didn’t fall back asleep- the nightmare having woken him too close to morning for him to do much else but stare off and watch light slowly grow outside.

But Geonhak didn’t leave, didn’t say a word, and didn’t even look at Seoho when he started shifting, knowing that they needed to get up soon for breakfast. When Seoho sat up, Geonhak was already turning away, grabbing his clothes from the closet.

“You want first shower?” he asked like he did every morning, not looking over his shoulder.

Seoho swallowed the lump in his throat, not sure when it had gotten there as he stared across the room at his partner.

“You can go first,” he muttered, voice a little rough with disuse, and Geonhak simply hummed in acknowledgement, leaving the room a minute later with his clothes.

Seoho was left alone in the room with a sensation similar to the helium balloon, but this one… it hurt more than the balloon did. It felt sharp, but not painful. The sort of tension that made Seoho press his palm to his chest, as if he might feel something there that didn’t belong.

Seoho had known for a long time that he wasn’t alone anymore.

But the violent reminders of that fact… were harder to deal with than he ever anticipated.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho opened his eyes and couldn’t see anything.

The panic that came along with that revelation was short lived as he felt the weight across his eyes, a warm, damp cloth resting there.

He moved slowly- accustomed enough with waking from unconsciousness to know that fast movements weren’t a good idea as he lifted a hand out from beneath heavy blankets, removing the cloth from over his eyes.

He stared up at the ceiling of the medical bay, taking a slow breath in and holding it.

He, at least, was alive.

There was significantly less relief associated with that than you would think, but Seoho was still building up the strength to sit up and see if he was alone.

He shut his eyes, allowing himself to exist in darkness for another moment, mentally preparing for the reality that might be waiting for him. He couldn’t hear anyone speaking, but given the amount of light in the room, it was probably early morning- or maybe a sunny evening.

With a slow effort born out of a desire _not_ to have pain tearing through him, Seoho got his elbows on the bed, lifting himself up into a sitting position that required him to lean back against the metal bar headboard of the infirmary bed. He still felt slightly disoriented, especially with the headrush that came with sitting up, but he managed to collapse back onto the pillow behind him without any significant pain.

Actually, there didn’t seem to be any sort of discomfort outside of an ache in his muscles, like he’d strained them a little too hard. That thought also brought very little real comfort or relief with it.

His brain still felt muddled, but he at least felt like himself again.

Seoho casted a quick glance across the infirmary, eyes stopping beside four beds.

Youngjo’s face was visible over the blankets of the bed directly to Seoho’s right. His face had been cleared of blood, the pallor of it had faded back to a healthy pink from the warm blankets, and the tension that had been laced through his every muscle seemed to be replaced with a peaceful sleep.

At the foot of Youngjo’s bed, Dongju sat in a little plastic chair, head pillowed on his arms on top of the covers- looking no worse for the wear than expected, breathing quietly in small snores.

Across the room, in the row facing them, Seoho had to lean up, but he could see Keonhee and Hwanwoong in beds beside each other, also bundled in blankets- no blood, pain, or damage visible.

Seoho’s chest slowly unlocked as he turned to the left.

Barely three feet away, Geonhak laid in the infirmary bed.

And finally, here on the surface with a warm sunlight instead of icy, damp air and blue hues, Seoho let the weight of reality settle on his shoulders devastatingly.

Geonhak was back.

His arms were outside his blankets, and while the blood was gone, the sick tinge of his skin was gone, the fragility was gone… there were still bandages wrapped around his wrists, his forehead, and several scattered across his neck and collarbones- the lack of jacket showing off more of the skin that Seoho hadn’t had time to look at in the Hellscape.

Some of his skin was still painted with bruises- some yellow and faded, and some that almost looked like blood gathered beneath the surface of his skin.

In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but panic slightly- knowing that things like cuts and bruises should have been the first thing the healers had fixed.

That was drowned out into a static buzz by the fact Seoho suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe- the worst kind of tension stretching across his chest that made him feel like taking a single breath would break him, even feeling like there was nothing left to break. 

He stared at Geonhak, the reality of everything- of him leaving, being captured, waiting there for a Seoho who would have never bothered to come, getting him back, being so unsure if any of them were going to make it out-

And he was back.

Seoho blinked, feeling hot tears stinging his eyes, but when he tried to blink them away, it only pushed them down his cheeks, blurring his vision, but… he didn’t try and wipe them away.

Seoho stared at Geonhak, unwilling to look away, and let his vision blur until he was nothing but a dark smudge through the tears. He let them fall and he didn’t scorn them, for once in his life.

He’d been so fucking _scared_.

Not just within the Hellscape, not just for their safety- it was a fear that stretched all the way back to the first moment Geonhak left, leaving Seoho alone in their shared room. It started back before Seoho could admit that losing Geonhak had hurt him beyond what words could describe.

And it wasn’t until he was sitting in the infirmary, Geonhak beside him again- no matter how battered and bruised- that Seoho realized what exactly he’d been so afraid of the entire time.

Not the kind of fear that turned you cold and immobile. But the kind that followed you like a shadow, a half step behind you in everything you did.

It was a fear that had followed Seoho his entire life, dissipating in Geonhak’s presence and then returning with a vicious revenge the moment Geonhak stepped out of their bedroom for the last time. 

He didn’t want to be alone again.

Not by any inadequacies of the rest of his team’s presence, not by any feeling that the remaining people in his life weren’t enough, but as a product of the subconscious thought that even Seoho hadn’t been able to verbalize until he was running with Geonhak slowly dying on his back, watching his teammates drop one by one.

If Geonhak could leave… who else would?

By their choice or not, if Geonhak- someone who had been at Seoho’s side for years, someone who had changed Seoho in every way, someone who understood Seoho more intimately than anyone else could ever hope to, someone who meant more to Seoho than he could comprehend-

Someone who _knew_ that they were all that and more to him-

If the one person Seoho never thought would ever leave had been taken away… then what exactly was safe in this world?

If he could lose Geonhak of all people, he could lose anything. Anyone.

Losing Geonhak had not left him alone, but it had left him vulnerable.

Geonhak didn’t break his trust, he didn’t ruin his life… but he’d taken a stability that Seoho had found for the first time in his life. With the loss of that… everything had suddenly seemed impermanent, fleeting…. So very, very breakable.

If the security Seoho had felt with Geonhak hadn’t been enough… then nothing was.

And maybe Geonhak wouldn’t stay, even now that Seoho had gotten him back.

Maybe he would heal and be on his way… but…

Well. There wasn’t a ‘but.’

Maybe Geonhak wouldn’t stay here for longer than it took to heal. Maybe he would.

Seoho didn’t dwell on it, his chest slowly opening up like a thousand weights finally being lifted- the fear, uncertainty, and necessary reactions and compartmentalizations of the Hellscape no longer present. It hurt, the way his chest bloomed open like a flower in a time lapse, after so long of being curled up like a wounded animal.

Seoho was back to safety, he was back to familiarity.

Which meant when he cried- for only a number of time he could count on one hand in as long as he could remember- he let it wash over him like the stream he and Geonhak had frequented so often. They weren’t waves that threatened to drown him, they were ripples in a bond, brushing up against you.

They weren’t overwhelming. They weren’t painful. They weren’t frantic.

It was what it was: a release of pressure that Seoho couldn’t afford in a year. Not a dam breaking, but the slowly freeing weight of no longer standing on the edge.

They were all, at the very least, alive.

For once- for _now_ \- that was enough.

Until he could be selfish enough to want more, it was enough.

~~~~~~~~~

“You never talk about your parents.”

Seoho glanced up from where he sat on his bed, looking over a mission report with his legs curled up and his back against the wall.

Geonhak sat on his own bed, his own file open on his lap- his jacket discarded for a regular v-neck t-shirt and sweatpants. The short sleeves made the scars on his upper arm more visible, but Seoho was so accustomed to them, they blended in as just a part of Geonhak he was used to seeing.

“You never talk about _your_ parents,” Seoho echoed back, bordering on petulant, but he knew it came across entirely defensive.

“I’m not saying you have to,” Geonhak said calmly, looking back at his file. “I’m just stating an observation.”

Seoho snorted, shaking his head as he flipped through the pages, looking for inaccuracies. “There’s not exactly much to talk about when its obvious what my heritage is.”

Everyone knew where demonics came from. There was only one way they showed up.

“Yeah, but… all that’s obvious is that one of your parents was a demon,” he said, voice way too calm, like they were talking about what they’d had for lunch. “That says nothing about what kind of people they were.”

“One of them wasn’t even a person.”

Geonhak finally looked up, leveling Seoho with an unimpressed look that said ‘if you’re just going to be difficult, just tell me to shut up.’

Which Seoho would never, ever choose to do.

He did sigh, though, drawing his knees up to his chest a little tighter and using the file as a barrier between the two of them, no longer even seeing the words on the page as his chest tightened. He knew he could just remain silent, or simply give another deflection, and Geonhak would never bring it up again.

But Seoho sighed.

Because his relationship with Geonhak… was different like that.

“I have no idea about my dad,” Seoho said flatly, head leaning back against the wall. “According to my mom, he left before she even knew she was pregnant. Never showed back up again.”

“Did she know… what he was?” he questioned, tone that sort of delicate calm.

Seoho’s lips thinned. “Beforehand? Yeah.” He dropped the file because having it blocking his vision was making him claustrophobic. “She went through the whole pregnancy thing on her own, and even after I was born, he never entered the picture.”

“What was she like?” Geonhak questioned, legs folded in front of himself, file forgotten in his lap.

What was she like?

Seoho had been asking himself that question for as long as he could remember.

“She wasn’t a bad person,” he said, using those words he had come to the conclusion of a long time ago. “That doesn’t mean she was a great mom.”

“There’s no way she chose to have sex with a demon, and go through with the pregnancy, just to be a bitch about you being demonic,” Geonhak said, voice openly tense- like he was prepared to let it fall into anger, but was withholding judgement.

It made Seoho snorted derisively.

“She was proud of me for everything I did,” he assured the other. “She was always there for me, she told me I was different from dark creatures no matter what anyone else said. She moved me around schools when I got expelled for fighting the other kids who started it first.”

He inhaled slowly. Exhaled.

“She did everything a good mom should have,” he said firmly, giving credit where it was due. “Especially with the… issues I had.”

He stretched his legs out before he got more claustrophobic.

“But… she didn’t really get it,” Seoho muttered, shrugging stiffly. “She loved me, I know she did. And she knew that there would be issues with me being demonic. But… she always thought that it would get better. That it would go away, eventually.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, sighing.

“She thought the world of me. And she thought that everyone else would, too. She didn’t ignore the issues I was having, but… she never placed as much importance on them as I did. She always told me it would stop, that the kids just needed a chance to see the real me. She was always so convinced that I just needed time for the kids to warm up to me.”

Seoho remembered coming home with dirt and leaves in his hair from a fight. His mother tutting over him, worrying over the scratch on his elbow from where he fell, ushering him into the bathroom for a bath.

“Maybe it was… her own way of coping with having a demonic for a kid,” he said, shrugging again. “Maybe she genuinely thought that time would fix it. Maybe that was all she knew how to do. I don’t know what exactly went on in her head… but I never trusted her. Not really.”

Not that he thought his mother would ever do anything to him- he knew she loved him unconditionally. A little too unconditionally. It made her blind.

“It’s why I never really told her, the worse it got at school,” Seoho confessed, voicing things out loud for the first time… in his life.

Because that’s what Geonhak was.

“When I had nightmares, she wanted to be able to comfort me, but… I never told her what they were about. I stopped sharing things with her… because I knew that there was either nothing she could do, or nothing she _would_ do.” 

His fingers curled into a loose fist that he quickly released.

“There was a period of time when I hated her for brushing it off for so long,” he admitted, a bit of guilt in the back of his throat. “I was so angry that she would let it keep happening, but…” He huffed. “Eventually, I knew… that it was just the way things were. I stopped being so angry.”

“How old were you?” Geonhak murmured, barely loud enough to hear across the distance. “When you lost that trust?”

He glanced up, risking a glimpse of Geonhak. And maybe he should have anticipated it… but the sympathy- the _empathy_ \- in his eyes took Seoho by surprise, a fist to the stomach, winding him.

Because of course Geonhak understood.

Even if he’d never experienced a single thing Seoho had in his life… he understood because he didn’t need to experience those things to know exactly what Seoho was feeling- the exact brands of guilt, frustration, loneliness, and acceptance.

And there wasn’t pain in Geonhak’s eyes- not the eyes of someone hurting on behalf of another… but the eyes of someone who understood, _intimately_ , the exact ways that someone else had been hurt.

“Since before I was ten.” He knew that much, even if he couldn’t pinpoint an exact moment of losing that trust. “But it got really bad… when I was twelve and got called a hell spawn for the first time to my face.”

He saw Geonhak stiffen, but he went on, already numb to all of these memories.

“It got bad because… after they called me that, I realized that it was never going to be what my mom wanted. No one was ever going to care who I was because all they cared about was what made me. But she just kept pretending they might.”

It had been ridiculous that he’d hoped she was right for so long.

But Seoho knew now… that maybe his mom had just kept hoping for longer than Seoho had been able to.

“She died not longer after I joined my first agency,” he said, choosing to believe the sensation in his chest was just him being accustomed to her death. “We were on good terms… but I hadn’t seen her in a long time.”

Seoho did regret that, to an extent. Even though he wasn’t sure what going around more often would have accomplished. Regardless of her reasons, he had never been able to trust her, no matter how much he loved her as a mother.

“I still never trusted her. Not really, not where it counted.”

Seoho wasn’t sure what possessed him to say his next sentence, but it immediately made his blood feel too warm and his chest feel too heavy.

He didn’t know why he said it, but he couldn’t look at Geonhak when he did, bringing his file back up to hide behind in hopes that Geonhak wouldn’t press him over it.

“I never really trusted anyone enough to rely on them, until I partnered with you.”

Even though it was a fact Geonhak already knew… Seoho had never explicitly outlined what exactly that entailed. Not just that Geonhak was the only person Seoho had ever actually trusted in an agency… but that Geonhak was the _first_ person he had ever been able to trust and not be burned by it.

Even from his own family.

Thankfully, Geonhak didn’t ask any more questions.

However, when Seoho glanced up at him after a good long while, he found Geonhak frowning thoughtfully at his file, clearly not reading it, and clearly a million miles in his own head.

Seoho went back to his file. It didn’t really matter how much he tried to downplay the exact depths that trusting Geonhak went. Geonhak could feel it anyway.

Geonhak could feel how devastating a sensation it was when you realized, for the first time in your life… that there was someone who would not only protect you, but fight for you- in every part of your life, against everything that threatened you- internal or external.

Geonhak was extra like that.

Seoho’s life was flipped on its head like that.

‘Gratitude’ was an entirely insufficient word for the emotion that clung to the back of Seoho’s throat when he glanced up and Geonhak was always there. Seoho didn’t think a word existed for what he felt.

Something entirely overwhelming, but in all the best ways possible- like the moment you realized something wasn’t entirely hopeless, when you found a sparkling spring where you thought was only decay.

Something entirely all-encompassing, paralyzing, thrilling… 

Something akin to a hand reaching down, with the knowledge that grabbing that hand meant you were safe, that you weren’t alone.

He wondered what Geonhak might label that emotions as, what color it was…

Probably something red.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Dongju had already told their story, the younger made quite obvious when Seoho was told to tell it again.

Dongju stood on the other side of Seoho’s bed while he reported everything to one of the Heads- from the fight with the dark elf to jumping down the crater to getting back. The youngest stood there, arms crossed and scowl taking over his face, like he was prepared to bite the Head taking notes on a notepad if he crossed a line.

“You did all this without giving a single word to anyone else?” the Head demanded stiffly, eyes narrowed. “You threw your teammates down-“

“We went of our own volition,” Dongju snapped, sharp enough to hint at the fact he’d already had this conversation. “Seoho was against us coming, and we went anyway.”

The Head looked up at him with very little patience. “This is Seoho’s account-“

“Then stop putting words in his mouth,” Dongju said, lips curled in annoyance. “He already said that he was practically fighting us the entire way-“

“So, you took this entirely foolish risk on the singular event of suspecting the dark elf was truthfully referring to the fact Geonhak was in the Hellscape?” he continued, looking at Seoho instead.

Seoho knew from the moment he made his decision that it was fucking insane. That hadn’t stopped him.

“Yeah.”

“You do understand how entirely reckless every single one of you were?” he demanded, annoyance creeping into his brows. “Your entire team came back half-dead, and a few of them even closer than that-“

“We did everything in our power to rescue a teammate,” Seoho said flatly, voice leaving no room for argument. “We won’t apologize for-“

“Geonhak is no longer your teammate,” the Head broke in sternly. “He hasn’t been part of an agency for over a year now.”

Seoho actually had to clench a fist to keep from punching an authority figure in the face.

The man wasn’t wrong. But he was wrong.

“Well, then, we did everything in our power to rescue someone who had been taken against their will into the Hellscape, the same we would do for anyone,” Seoho replied, carefully keeping anger from his voice because turning this into a fight would only drag it on for longer.

“That was-“

“Is that it?” Dongju broke in sharply, arms tightening across his chest. “You’ve got his statement. Our answers won’t change just because you tell us it was a stupid idea a hundred times. He just woke up- leave, if you’re done with your questions.”

Seoho turned to Dongju with a slight cock to his eyebrow, but Dongju was having a stare down with the Head in question.

“We didn’t risk anyone’s lives but our own,” Seoho threw in, letting just a little annoyance out this time, just to draw the Head’s attention to himself. “And we succeeded, which literally no one has ever done.”

Half his time being conscious had just been used describing what they’d seen. And Seoho was sure they’d be speaking to more people about that specific accomplishment.

It wasn’t like they’d found some secret way to escape the Hellscape… It just so happened that they had a demonic, enough people, and enough suicidal tendencies to make it work.

The Head looked like he wanted to snap something at them- probably another statement of how stupid they had all been- but one of the healers stepped from her office, clearing her throat when she saw the Head still there.

“I think that’s enough for today,” she said in such a way that said it wasn’t a request. “We need to discuss Mr. Lee’s discharge and treatment.”

There was only one group of people that had real power to override a Head, and those were the healers. Which Seoho had never been more grateful for as she practically chased the Head from the infirmary with a promise they could ask more questions tomorrow.

When she returned, she pulled a pen from her pocket, staring at a chart thoughtfully.

“Alright, now… Our current outlook is that we’ll keep you overnight one more time, but you’ll be free to leave tomorrow with no-work orders,” she recited crisply, glancing up. “Your internal damage was extensive but very surface. If you’d been down there for longer, there might be more concern, but it seems like mental strain is going to be your only enemy for the next week.”

“So, he just needs some rest?” Dongju clarified, arms loosening in relief.

She nodded, smiling comfortingly. “There was some internal damage, but that was healed easily. You’ll just be experiencing some fatigue, a few days to regain your strength, maybe a bit of shortness of breath for the next few days. Don’t strain yourself, and sleep when you feel the need. You’ll be back to normal shortly.”

Seoho opened his mouth, a whole slew of questions prepared to leave, but the healer apparently anticipated them, chuckling to herself as she glanced at Youngjo and behind herself at Hwanwoong and Keonhee.

“As I’ve already explained to Mr. Son,” she said kindly, “the rest of your teammates will also make full recoveries.”

She kept speaking, but Seoho’s hearing whited out for a second as he turned lightheaded at the statement, forcing himself to hear what she was saying.

“-was more severe than your own,” she said seriously, “but, across the board, their exposures to the strain and damage were short-term. There was more physical damage to heal, especially internally, but it was able to all be healed in a single session. Like yourself, they’re just recouping their strength. They should all wake tomorrow, and be released shortly after that.”

Dongju had apparently already heard this, but he still looked comforted by it, glancing back at Youngjo.

“We’re still doing research on what type of damage was exactly dealt,” she explained. “There was definitely extensive internal bleeding and damage, but nothing like a puncture or a cut. Our current suspicion is that… the energies and atmosphere of the Hellscape is simply not built for humans. Based on descriptions, it seems that using your powers down there creates a strain so powerful, it could very easily kill you by decimating your internal organs until they simply cease functioning.”

Seoho’s head slowly turned to Geonhak in the bed next to him.

He swallowed to get rid of the thickness to his voice. “What about Geonhak?” he questioned, glancing back at her. “Why isn’t he completely healed?”

“Ah,” she said delicately, tucking her board beneath her arm. “Mr. Kim’s wounds… unlike the others, he had a long-term, repeated exposure to that strain. The others were easily healed within a single session, but…”

She pressed her lips together, like trying to find the right words.

“Healing powers aren’t magical,” she said clearly. “Most variations of them use the body’s natural abilities, and just speed them up. That’s why you’re exhausted after extensive healing. Your body needs to catch up with all that healing.

She gestured to Geonhak gently.

“We treated the most life threatening issues in Mr. Kim, but those were so extensive, we couldn’t heal everything within a single session. We’re allowing his body time to gather strength again so as not to push it too hard. We’ll likely do another session tomorrow, after he’s rested up a bit.”

“And what aftermath will he face?” Seoho demanded, controlling his voice to keep it from being too frantic. “A full recovery?”

“As far as we can tell, yes,” she assured him, smiling gently. “It may take a few days of healing and breaks before we’re finished and he’s awake, but there doesn’t seem to be anything we can’t fix. He was… in the most precarious condition when they brought him in,” she admitted. “It was a little touch-and-go for a moment, just because there was so much to heal. But we managed it. He’ll be just fine, it’ll just take him a moment longer than the others.”

Seoho breathed out, repeating it to himself.

He would be okay.

They would all be okay.

They were okay.

Somehow, they survived that hell hole together.

Somehow, Geonhak had survived that hell hole alone.

“Do you have anymore information on what exactly he experienced down there?” she asked, bringing her clipboard back out and clicking her pen quietly. “Mr. Son said you were the one to find Mr. Kim.”

Any more information.

Seoho knew too much and nothing at all about what exactly Geonhak went through down there.

“We can talk tomorrow, but if you’re up to it, it’s always helpful to know what exactly we’re dealing with,” she said gently, a calm eyebrow lifted. 

Seoho sighed.

“Yeah, I know a little.”

She nodded for him to go on.

“I know that he’s an idiot,” he began, but his chest felt lighter than it had in months as he said it.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You’re an idiot.”

Geonhak’s responding smile was too warm, too calm, too content. The picture of peace, as if Seoho had given him some heartfelt secret.

“I know.”

Seoho rolled his eyes, snorting. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

Geonhak’s eyes were warm, eyes knowing as he lowered his gaze to watch his feet as they walked through the grass.

“Yeah, it was.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Seoho was down by the stream.

He’d come here frequently over the time that Geonhak had been gone, but it had never felt the same. Because as often as he had come down here on his own- sometimes joined by Geonhak and sometimes not- this stream had been their mutual thinking place.

Moping place.

Whatever their mood for the day had been.

Seoho had spent the better part of the last two days out here- sleeping, as per his medical instructions, whenever he got tired, curling up in the sunlight in the grass with his jacket as his pillow. He’d spent the first few days inside, watching the others wake and be released one by one.

Hwanwoong had laughed, almost nervously, a little bit in disbelief and the memory of adrenaline. “I can’t believe we actually made it out of there alive,” he laughed, leaning against Seoho’s shoulder in relief.

Keonhee thoroughly beat Hwanwoong’s ass for his disregard of their argument in the Hellscape during their escape.

Dongju thoroughly scolded (not having the heart to actually physically attack) Youngjo for lying about how bad it was, for using his wings- regardless of the reasons behind it.

Youngjo just smiled apologetically, hugging Dongju tightly, which promptly made the youngest fall silent and hug him back in a punishing embrace.

Youngjo looked at Seoho over Dongju’s shoulder, smiling quietly.

“Thanks,” he said, eyes warm as Keonhee finally stopped smacking Hwanwoong enough to pay attention. “We wouldn’t have gotten out of there without you.”

Maybe that was why no one had ever gotten out of the Hellscape. No one had ever had a demonic on their side.

“I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without you guys,” Seoho refuted, shaking his head slowly. “Even more than having back up… I would have probably just gone insane down there. I told you, the Hellscape did stuff to me.”

His lips thinned, the weight of just how lost he’d been, before he’d prioritized the others over his own blind panic.

“It’s a good thing we all went,” Keonhee said, smiling warmly, slinging an arm across Seoho’s shoulder. “It was a team effort. Go team!”

Seoho rolled his eyes, huffing a laugh as he unwrapped the arm. “Yeah, it was a team effort to take such a shit beating and make it out alive.”

“That is our specialty,” Hwanwoong said seriously, making everyone _else_ roll their eyes-

Seoho sat on the sofa, watching them, and he knew things were okay. Things were almost normal.

He started his days by visiting Geonhak in the infirmary, speaking with whichever healer was there about how things were progressing.

“He should be awake soon,” the healer told him on the fourth day. “He’s regained consciousness for brief periods during his rest times. We hope within the next couple of days, he’ll have enough strength regained to stay awake.”

Seoho sat beside the stream on day six, kicking at the dirt under the ledge and watching it sprinkle into the water in tiny ripples. It was better to be out here- where there was natural sounds, natural movement to distract him- it was better than sitting inside, just staring at his phone that didn’t give anything to really distract him.

He didn’t necessarily feel at peace, but… he was calmer out here than he would be, stuck inside.

He napped for a while, opening his eyes to the sun moving passed the highest point, towards afternoon. Seoho didn’t move for a while, staying horizontal as he watched clouds float across the sky, the occasional breeze brushing through the grass pleasantly.

He shut his eyes once more, just resting because that’s what his body was telling him to do.

The good thing about being outside was that it was both the perfect place not to think, and the perfect place to work through things without them becoming overwhelming.

Seoho didn’t consciously think about Geonhak, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a background process of his mind that was slowly categorizing and working through things. 

Over the course of six days, Seoho had come to these conclusions.

  1. Geonhak was back.
  2. This changed things.
  3. He didn’t know what exactly it changed.
  4. His pulse and thought patterns had not been regular since he found Geonhak in that cell.



There was something a hundred times worse about the fact that Geonhak was back, but that there was no guarantee he would stay. Geonhak had left because of his morals. Those hadn’t changed, and neither had the agency’s stance on his actions.

Geonhak had no more reason to stay now than he did when he actually left.

Seoho had no more right to ask him to stay now than he did when he left the first time.

But Seoho was suddenly a thousand times less okay with him leaving again, when he had already been entirely _not okay_ with it the first time.

Seoho’s unwanted thoughts had been trying to imagine what it would be like to be alone again.

The intentional non-thinking that he’d been doing out here by the stream was blissfully blank of that future reality, focusing just on the fact that Seoho’s chest had stopped feeling so hollow, so empty. It focused on the fact that his heartbeat was a little too fast, his blood a little too warm, not sluggish or chilled anymore.

He focused (but didn’t think about) the fact that everything finally felt normal again.

He didn’t think about (but couldn’t help but focus on) the fact that that feeling was so, so fleeting.

So he couldn’t stop thinking.

But he didn’t think about it.

He simply dozed in the afternoon’s warm sunlight, knowing that he should probably head inside and eat with the others pretty soon. Once afternoon started heading towards evening, he would make himself get up.

But he was comfortable, and it was warm, and he was listening to his body just like the healer had instructed him too.

He just… let everything be okay for a moment.

“How did I know you’d be here?”

Seoho’s eyes flew open, staring up at Geonhak leaning over him, smirking with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a light leather jacket.

There was still a square of bandage on the side of his neck, but aside from that, there was nothing out of place, save for perhaps the dark circles under his eyes- but even those were mellowed by the light dancing in his eyes as he stared down at him.

Seoho snapped into a sitting position, so quick his vision turned spotty as blood rushed back to its normal position, whipping around until he was half-kneeling, facing Geonhak with probably the stupidest look on his face.

Geonhak laughed at the reaction, taking a step backwards to give Seoho room to stand. Which Seoho did, despite not being entirely sure whether his legs would take his weight or not.

This Geonhak was not half-unconscious, vomiting blood, unable to even lift his head with more blood and bruises than skin.

For the first time in a year, Seoho stared at a Geonhak that was familiar.

He stared at Geonhak, standing on his own, holding himself the same way he always did, smirking at Seoho like he knew something he didn’t, fresh clothing and brushed hair…

He wasn’t dead. Not even close.

Seoho was sure he was staring at him like an utter idiot- he could tell that his mouth was open, but he wasn’t entirely sure he could think right now, much less move. He felt a sudden pressure take over his chest, making it difficult to breathe through.

He felt like his heart was tearing itself apart, piece by piece.

He felt like he was dying in the best way possible.

“You…”

Seoho didn’t even know what he was trying to say.

Geonhak merely huffed a quiet laugh, taking his hands out of his pockets and spreading his arms. The actions could have been equal parts an invitation to take a swing, or the welcoming of a hug.

Seoho jerked forward the single step between them.

The decision for which he chose wasn’t decided until his chest was colliding with Geonhak’s, arms grabbing him and wrapping around him too tight, too desperate, too vulnerable-

Geonhak probably knew what Seoho would do before Seoho did, arms closing back around him with a quiet, deep laugh as Seoho pressed his face to the curve of his neck- more to hide than anything else as he refused to move.

If he moved, Geonhak might notice the way each breath shook.

He should probably get his face out of his neck if Seoho didn’t want the stinging of his eyes to be tangible, but he didn’t move.

It wasn’t until Geonhak stopped laughing that Seoho realized it wasn’t just his breaths shaking, a tremor running through his muscles that was definitely entirely unable to be hidden from Geonhak.

The past year and the past week aside… Forgetting everything that Seoho had gone through, felt, experienced…

Geonhak was his friend. More than that.

Geonhak was someone that Seoho had expected to be at his side for the rest of his life, no matter how unlikely it truly was.

The sort of physical comfort that he and Geonhak had taken from each other very, very rarely involved this kind of contact. This was saved for brief, dark moments when there was nothing else to be done.

The pressure in Seoho’s chest released, and he knew there was also no way to hide the damp spot growing at the edge of Geonhak’s collar. Seoho might have felt embarrassed to be crying, so openly vulnerable, even in front of Geonhak, but…

But he really didn’t care.

Because Geonhak was back. He was back, and he was alive. He was _okay._ He wasn’t dying, Seoho wasn’t going to lose him again, the Hellscape hadn’t sucked him away-

And Seoho really didn’t give a shit what people thought, there were no words to describe the emotions that that brought, after a year of feeling his absence like a physical ache that never dulled.

Geonhak held him a little tighter- weaker than Seoho knew he could be, but still surprisingly strong for someone who had been unconscious that morning.

If Geonhak had any intention of making gentle fun of Seoho for crying, he showed none of it as rested the side of his head against Seoho’s, neither of them speaking for a minute, standing there for perhaps too long. It wasn’t Seoho’s fault- there were no words inside his mouth to say.

Geonhak took a breath that was slow and deep enough to be an obvious attempt to keep a rein on his emotions.

“They just released me,” he said, voice a little rough- maybe from emotions, but maybe just from being unconscious for so long. “After I proved that walking around wouldn’t make me pass out.”

Seoho would have asked how he was feeling, if not for the fact that he knew his voice would never make it through the sentence.

“Nothing really hurts,” Geonhak answered because of course he knew every question Seoho would ever ask. “My head and my muscles are tired. The healers said that was probably more from the healing process than anything that happened to me.”

Seoho swallowed, sure that Geonhak felt it.

“I’ve been awake for a while, while they were questioning me about everything that happened… They also filled me in on what was going on while I was gone.”

Seoho wasn’t going to ask. He didn’t want to know.

Geonhak didn’t stiffen, but his body rippled slightly, almost like a shiver.

“It didn’t feel like six months,” he murmured absently. “I don’t know if it felt way longer or way shorter, but…” He swallowed quietly. “I only saw a dark elf once in a blue moon. It really wasn’t that horrible… It was just always so fucking boring down there.”

Seoho wanted to laugh and hit him. At the same time.

Without the imminent danger and the blood and the almost-death, the lightening jokes about what happened didn’t feel enraging. They just felt familiar.

Like everything was going to be okay.

“They’d send dark elves in… I don’t really know what they were supposed to do because I roasted them before they could.” He chuckled to himself, but it wasn’t very amused. “I wasn’t lying, most of that was just what I’d done to myself by using my powers. There were only a few occasions any of them ever touched me, and it was never for long.” 

Seoho had been, since waking up in the infirmary, no longer concerned with Geonhak’s physical health. But… even if he’d never seen a dark elf the whole time he was down there, Seoho didn’t want to know what the Hellscape did to your head.

“And before you ask,” Geonhak went on matter-of-factly, so lighthearted. “Yes, I probably do have some sort of PTSD that I’m sure will manifest itself for a while. I’m not entirely sure the extent of that just because…”

He paused, head shifting slightly, lowering thoughtfully.

“It was weird down there,” he murmured. “I was never… scared, exactly. I was angry, more than anything, about how powerless I felt, about how easily I let them take me in the first place.” He blew out a puff of air frustratedly. “I felt like all the hatred I’d held for those creatures multiplied a hundred time over, almost until I didn’t recognize it, but-“

He paused, swallowing.

“I don’t feel like being down there affected me. I wasn’t tormented because I never let them get close to me, but…”

Even if nothing had explicitly happened… the memory of down there would not be an easy one to forget. Even if that trauma didn’t manifest in explosive bursts of anger or depression or fear… it would still there for a while.

“I was mostly worried,” he muttered, arms loosening around Seoho ever so slightly. “It made me nervous… the way they talked about us.”

Seoho stiffened, pulling away from the embrace, keeping his hands on Geonhak’s biceps, holding them at arm’s length as he stared at him- frowning in confusion and disturbance.

“They talked about us?” he said, voice a little weak. “In the Hellscape? To you?” 

For the first time, Seoho looked at Geonhak’s face- his expression the sort of peaceful you would have never expected to find after everything he’d gone through. But his eyes latched onto Seoho’s, unmoving, like he wasn’t sure Seoho wouldn’t disappear if he looked away.

“I didn’t let them say much,” Geonhak confessed. “And they never said much anyway, but it wasn’t really anything we didn’t know. They still thought that a demonic and a human working together was the funniest thing in known history.”

Yes, it was so funny.

That someone like Geonhak had stuck around Seoho for so long.

That someone like Seoho had latched onto Geonhak so hard.

That the two of them had somehow, miraculously, impossibly formed something after a lifetime of solitude and anger and loneliness.

Seoho thought they were pretty fucking funny, too. Ridiculously so.

“They used to try and imply that they’d snatched you too,” he said, rolling his eyes like the notion was ridiculous. “I never believed them. If they had you, they would have showed me.”

Geonhak’s eyes flickered away, seemingly against his will.

“But you know… there’s always that part of you that’s afraid of what you don’t know.”

“What the hell did they even want?” Seoho snapped, something breaking out of his chest as he stepped away, tearing away from Geonhak’s grip because… well, just because. “They weren’t grilling you for information, they hardly touched you, they weren’t just taunting you with me- Why the _hell_ did they even take you to begin with?”

It made no sense.

Why Geonhak of all people? Why was a mere association with Seoho enough to put him in that kind of danger-

“They’re dark elves,” Geonhak said after a moment’s pause, eyes finally leaving Seoho’s to slowly trace over his body, like checking for a wound. “They don’t care about much else but chaos. They knew the two of us were close. It was nothing more than a game for them to play.” 

“You said you were alone most of the time!” Seoho burst, hands twitching helplessly. “I don’t understand why- They found it _funny_?” he demanded, blood warming uncomfortably. “Why you? Out of the two of us, why would they go for _you_ \- You’re _normal._ ”

Geonhak snorted quietly, shaking his head in amusement. Seoho stared, wishing he knew a way to release the tension that kept creeping into his chest.

“I don’t think normal is the best word,” he said calmly, too calmly. “From the moment we became partners and were good at it, we knew they were watching us.”

“But why would they take _you_?” Seoho snapped, fists clenching at his sides, expression tensing angrily. “You- You didn’t do anything wrong, they had no reason-“

“What is that supposed to mean?” Geonhak laughed, frowning in bewildered confusion. “What, do you think you _did_ do something wrong that would warrant them coming for you?”

“No,” Seoho huffed, rolling his eyes, “but I’m-“ He stopped for a moment, the words getting clogged. “The only reason they ever targeted you to begin with was because you partnered with me,” he said stiffly. “That means _I’m_ the problem here. I’m the one they’re watching. You’re collateral.”

Seoho was staring at some very interesting grass on the ground, nails digging into his palm and his heart feeling like it was trying to pound, but in reality, it was a weak flicker of life.

Geonhak should have never been involved. He should have never been the one they took.

At the very least, they should have been together.

“Well,” Geonhak said, in that ever-patient tone that sometimes made Seoho feel like he was in kindergarten all over again. “Setting aside that particularly self-deprecating statement for a moment-“

Seoho’s head snapped up with an annoyed glare, mouth open to say something harsh-

“First of all, I think my involvement in everything is a little more than just collateral,” he said, sounding almost… affronted. “I like to think I put in a little more effort over the years than just being the tag-along in your internal battle with your identity.”

Seoho winced, anger snuffing out like a wet rag thrown onto a candle, replacing it with a cold, hollow feeling.

“That isn’t what I meant,” he fought sharply, eyes narrowed defensively. “You _know_ that’s not what I meant-“

“I know,” Geonhak said matter-of-factly, head held high like he was entirely aware of every part of Seoho. His expression was calm, knowing, and a little… warm.

Sometimes Seoho hated the way Geonhak could seem so calm yet still seem to be silently smirking in amusement at him.

“I know what you meant,” Geonhak said firmly. “What you meant to say was that you spent a year alone, six months being afraid, you were terrified the moment you entered the Hellscape, you’ve been grappling with the fact that the Hellscape treated you differently but you still don’t know how it all ties to you-“

Seoho felt like he’d just been punched in the gut, wind knocked out of him.

“You’re lost because you felt like you were connected to the Hellscape but you’re not sure how, you were absolutely sure we were all going to die, you can barely believe the fact that we’re not dead, you’re trying to balance figuring out what the hell happened down there and not thinking about it at all, all while you’re trying to recover from your own potentially traumatizing experience of being in the Hellscape-“

Seoho wasn’t breathing, mouth open in words that wouldn’t come.

Geonhak stopped his calm list, as smooth as if he’d prewritten it all, taking a slow, calm breath as he lifted his eyes, locking them with Seoho’s, his lips twitching in the barest hint of a smile, though there was sympathy in his eyes.

The kind of sympathy that only Geonhak could ever experience.

“And you missed me,” he finished with that faint, knowing smile. He could have looked smug, but the warmth in his eyes erased any pride that may have hidden there. “You were worried about me. You’re still worried about me.”

Seoho… suddenly felt like his skin after a miscalculation against Geonhak’s flames, a tender, raw burn that couldn’t bear anything to touch it. He felt sensitive, exposed… and like the slightest breath in his direction would cause a pain he couldn’t cope with.

“But… you don’t want to admit it,” Geonhak said, voice suddenly quieter, like there was someone who might have overheard. “You never want to admit when you’re worried. But, in this case, you’re trying to hide the fact that you were and _are_ scared… by trying to feel guilty over the fact that it was me taken and not you.”

Seoho wanted to tell him to stop. He felt like he was drowning again, like each time his chest rose and fell was only going to kill him faster-

And Geonhak was so calm.

Seoho had expected to find him unbalanced, like Seoho was. He expected to find him struggling, off-kilter, out of control… He expected to find him to be exactly what Seoho was. But Geonhak was just as in control as he’d ever been.

“Just because it’s been a year, doesn’t mean you’re any harder to read, Seoho,” he murmured quietly, voice suddenly softening. “You’re still as easy to read as ever.”

Seoho didn’t know if that statement was a comfort or just another thing to be afraid of.

“It’s not your fault I was taken,” Geonhak said, voice suddenly hardening- as if daring Seoho to argue- though it was still that infinitely quiet tone. “It’s as much your fault that I was taken as it was that my parents died.”

Seoho winced again, nails finding their way back into the little crescents they’d already dug in his palm, shaking a little this time. That was a conversation they had closed down long ago.

“Just being involved in an event doesn’t make you guilty for it,” he said calmly, shaking his head slowly, staring at Seoho too knowingly-

And wasn’t that Seoho’s entire problem- one that he’d even forgotten he had, in Geonhak’s absence?

The fact that Geonhak knew Seoho more intimately than anyone else on this earth. He knew Seoho better than anyone ever had. And Seoho had willingly revealed to him more vulnerabilities than he had ever entrusted to another.

Geonhak knew Seoho too well.

And Seoho had forgotten how terrifying that was.

“I left,” Geonhak said firmly, leaving no space for Seoho to create an argument. “I went off on my own, no partner and no team. I did everything on my own- I made myself vulnerable and left myself unprotected, compared to when I was on the team with you.”

He shrugged quietly, like it was quite clear where blame was supposed to lay.

“It was no one’s fault but my own that I went off on my own. That I operated alone, without anyone else to watch my back. That I let those dark elves get the drop on me. You were nowhere near any of that- You’re an _idiot_ if you think you’re to blame for any of that.”

Geonhak had the audacity to roll his eyes, as if Seoho was being ridiculous.

But Seoho’s chest was still too tight, fire burning too hot as he took a step forward. “They were only watching you after you left because of me-“

“Because I had been a thorn in their side for over five years?” Geonhak broke in, eyes hardening ever so slightly. “Because my partner and I made a name for ourselves as people who thoroughly kicked their ass-“

“Because you were a human who partnered with a demonic!” Seoho snapped. “We’ve always known they were watching us because-“

“Because _I_ was a human and _you_ were a demonic,” Geonhak said sharply, speaking over Seoho with a flash in his eyes. “They weren’t watching you because you were a demonic with a human partner- you’ve had those before. You’ve had those your entire _life_.”

Geonhak was glaring at him now- subtle and contained, but still blatantly showing his opinion on this argument.

“They watched us because you were a demonic who had a _good_ human partner,” he snapped sharply, shoulders straightening. “They found it funny because there was a human who didn’t treat you like _shit_. Because we made a good team, and that scared them. They watched us because the two of us were making a different. _Both_ of us- Not just you. They were watching _both of us_ , Seoho.”

Seoho’s jaw tightened, eyes staring at Geonhak’s, refusing to look away. Not even really sure he could, if he wanted to.

“You’re _part_ of an equation, Seoho, not the fucking end result,” he said, voice returning to a normal level, more calm, though just as fierce. “It’s been that way since the beginning- Everything that has ever had to do with the Hellscape has only involved you as a piece of a puzzle. Me, the rest of our team- We’re part of that puzzle too. It’s not just you, Seoho.”

Seoho could hear, loud and clear, the thing that Geonhak had been saying since he sat down at Seoho’s table on that first day.

The same thing that the others had had to smack Seoho round the head with, down in the Hellscape.

_You’re not alone._

_Your problems aren’t just yours._

_Everything is not always your fault._

Seoho stared at him, because he’d never had a response to those statements. And that hadn’t changed, even now.

Seoho’s mind was so occupied with trying to find something- anything- to say in response, so that he wasn’t just standing here like a fucking idiot, listening to Geonhak go on and on-

Geonhak closed the distance between them abruptly, arms around Seoho before he’d even processed that he was moving.

This hug was tighter than the first. Like Seoho was cracked in a hundred different places, and Geonhak was trying to hold the pieces together. This hug was for different reasons than the first.

But Seoho still fell still for a moment, like a deer sensing movement and trying to decide when it was safe to run. He stared over Geonhak’s shoulder, eyes suddenly burning again as he pressed his face to Geonhak’s shoulder in a vain attempt to hide that stinging.

His breath did not shake.

At least, not that he could feel. But it was hard to tell over his heart that had finally figured out how to beat so loudly, it was almost painful- his chest tight and airy at once, making him feel almost sick inside the embrace-

“You’re not personally responsible for everything that goes wrong, Seoho,” Geonhak murmured, quiet enough that Seoho almost didn’t hear him over his heartbeat. “And somehow, I haven’t managed to convince you of that after six years.”

Seoho might have laughed, as Geonhak quietly did, if his throat wasn’t entirely closed up, tears slipping out no matter how tightly he shut his eyes.

He was also pretty sure he was shaking.

He felt pathetic, being the one so unstable, when it was Geonhak who had been captured for six months.

But that feeling began to ebb away, the longer Geonhak didn’t pull away. 

“I knew that if I was going to end up escaping the Hellscape… it was going to be because of you,” he murmured, voice heavy and quiet. “I knew, from the moment I realized where I was, that there was no one else that could possibly try something so stupid.”

Seoho swallowed, wanting to hit him.

“No one’s ever gotten out of the Hellscape,” he reminded Geonhak, wondering how he ever thought Seoho would end up down there, much less get him out.

Seoho _had_ done that, but Geonhak couldn’t have known that.

But Geonhak had known that.

Geonhak had trusted in that. 

“I know,” the other chuckled, sounding dangerously emotional. “That’s why I knew it would have to be you, if I had any hope of getting out.”

That didn’t make much sense to Seoho, but he didn’t trust his voice to say anything else.

“I know what’s going through your head, Seoho,” Geonhak said quietly, softly. Almost a comfort. “I never stopped reading emotions- not down in the Hellscape and certainly not here, after we got out. You can’t keep pretending to be a bitch when I know you’re just scared.”

Seoho did hit him for that- nothing more than a weak punch to his side, which made Geonhak flinch, but he laughed, holding onto Seoho tighter. That made Seoho’s throat close up even worse.

It made tears gather, hot and stinging, and he hated that he couldn’t stop them from falling, even when he didn’t _feel_ like he wanted to cry-

“Sometimes,” Seoho rasped under his breath, knowing he sounded like shit, but he went on regardless. “I wish I could tell… what’s going through your head.”

Geonhak’s grip wavered, a silent question and statement of confusion, but it reaffirmed without hesitation.

“What does that mean?” he questioned quietly.

“It means that you’re a good actor,” Seoho muttered, wanting to put a distance between them to see Geonhak’s face, but he didn’t. “And you deflect things. And like you said, you probably got a least a little fucked up down there, but that’s not really showing itself yet.”

Seoho really had no clue if Geonhak was okay or not. He had no way of knowing.

“I don’t know what you’re feeling- whether you’re relieved to be out of there, whether you’re scared or scarred or angry- I don’t even have a portion of the radar to be looking on,” he said, stiffening slightly. “And I can’t always trust you to tell me when those feelings get bad, and I can’t always trust you to be truthful when I ask what’s wrong.”

Because Geonhak was always like that.

Maybe Seoho took unnecessary blame, and maybe he got bitchy to deflect from deeper emotions.

But Geonhak was selfless to a fault and entirely unconcerned with his own well being if it meant paying more attention to someone else’s health.

“And I hate that, now more than ever,” he confessed.

Geonhak was silent. He didn’t shift or hum or return a question. Seoho didn’t know if his eyes were closed or open, if he looked offended, amused, or upset.

“I’m sorry,” Geonhak murmured, and he sounded genuine enough that Seoho shut his eyes tighter. “I know-“ He cut himself off, silent for a moment and finally shifting against Seoho.

He took a breath, starting over.

“I don’t even know exactly what I’m feeling,” he confessed quietly. “But I promise… right now, I’m lost enough about everything that happened… that I promise, I will talk to you. If things get bad or I start feeling… weird… I will tell you. I promise, Seoho.”

And really, _really_ that shouldn’t have comforted Seoho as much as it did.

But Geonhak knew Seoho had missed him. He knew what he meant to Seoho.

To some extent that Seoho wasn’t entirely sure how to calculate… Geonhak knew what it would mean to lose him again.

The question suddenly appeared on Seoho’s tongue, abrupt and terrifying: _Are you going to stay?_

He clenched his teeth to keep it silent, swallowing it and forcing it down like choking on a pill. The answer to that question would not bring Seoho any peace or comfort, regardless of what it was. So, he shoved it away, unable to bear the thought of gaining an answer.

Either answer.

“Right now….” Geonhak murmured, and Seoho blinked, realizing he was about to elaborate. “I’m good,” he confessed quietly, almost like a guilty secret.

Seoho felt some of the tension bleed from Geonhak’s limbs and spine, smoothing out until his forehead pressed to Seoho’s shoulder, just at the curve of his neck, laying there gently for a moment, a silent and comforting weight.

“I’m okay right now,” he whispered, voice thick.

Seoho believed him. Because right now… he was okay, too. For right now, in this exact moment between the two of them… he was okay.

They were okay.

The silence between them stretched too long, but Seoho hardly noticed, too caught up in the pleasantly blank buzzing in his head and the weight of him and Geonhak balancing against each other- neither pushing nor pulling.

For right now, in this exact moment, Seoho felt balanced again- the sort of blank static buzz that came with lazy afternoons where time didn’t matter and it passed at its own pace, dripping passed you like honey droplets.

Seoho stopped running for the first time in too long.

He let the momentum that he’d been relying on for a year to keep himself moving, to keep himself from stumbling, to keep himself from faltering and giving up- He let that momentum run out, until his legs metaphorically gave out and he tumbled into the grass, like a runner at the end of a marathon.

He stayed there, in that grass, and he didn’t move. Because he didn’t have to.

Geonhak was back.

Which meant Seoho could breathe, could rest, could shut his eyes and know… and know that everything around him would work out.

Seoho was entirely sure he was holding the back of Geonhak’s shirt too tightly, that he was leaning too heavily on him, that he had stayed like this too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. At best, he was being fondly annoying, and at worst, Geonhak would push him off when he got tired of it.

But Geonhak almost seemed to hold him tighter for every ounce of Seoho’s weight that he placed on him.

Seoho breathed.

The sun was warm on his back.

“We should probably… go eat soon.”

Seoho jumped slightly at the sudden break in silence, taking a moment to process what exactly had been said. It… wasn’t disappointment in his veins as he swallowed. It was simply the familiar sensation of needing to pick yourself up after you’d finally gotten a break.

It wasn’t a hopeless sensation, though.

Not the endless fight to keep going that Seoho had been enduring during the Hellscape, much less the entire year before that. It wasn’t a fight, it felt normal.

It felt familiar.

It was going at the training sims for hours, until they collapsed on the ground next to each other, and one of them would look at the other with the most shit-eating grin and ask if they could go again or if they were too _tired_.

It was in the middle of a mission, Seoho on the ground and winded, struggling to breathe and get up to continue the fight- and the moment Geonhak appeared, equally winded and struggling, as he offered a hand down to Seoho. A hardened spark in his eyes, challenging Seoho to get up and keep going.

It was when they were outnumbered, after hours of battle, and they spotted someone at a distance, running for their lives. It was that surge of adrenaline of a job that wasn’t finished.

A job they had signed up for. A job that Seoho had thrived for, with Geonhak at his side.

It was the familiar sight of Geonhak holding a hand out, asking if he was too tired to keep going- a challenge as much as it was a genuine concern.

Seoho could have let the warmth in his chest bloom into a smile, but Geonhak would probably call him crazy.

So, he merely released his grip on Geonhak’s shirt slowly, lifting his head that felt just a little heavier than usual, and he stepped away.

Geonhak’s eyes were a little red, but there was that familiar light in them as he shoved his hands in his pockets, a quirk to his lips as he looked at Seoho. In silence, they both turned and started walking back to the facility.

Everything suddenly felt like it was in ultra HD, a clarity to everything that had taken on a haze, a blur, a fog. Seoho had walked this path again and again on his own, but it suddenly felt like the path he’d taken countless times over the five years, with Geonhak always either coming or going with him.

The halls of the compound suddenly seemed familiar again.

The stares that followed them as they walked together- shocked and disbelieving instead of angry this time- were familiar. 

Seoho had spent a year operating on his own, where someone had once been standing at his side.

That companion was back again.

Seoho tried to throw out a sarcastic “Welcome home,” as he opened the door of their dorm, but the words caught in his throat alarmingly thick and painful.

In their dorm, the others swarmed Geonhak. He laughed and made a show of trying to get them off as they gave him hugs, yelling to heard over each other about the fact he was back, what the hell happened to him, how he was feeling, what the fuck was wrong with him-

It was Youngjo who finally managed to dislodge Keonhee from his side, an arm wrapped around the other’s shoulders to keep him in place as Geonhak made a show of straightening his jacket that wasn’t out of place.

“We were gonna cook tonight, instead of going to the cafeteria,” Hwanwoong told him, bouncing on the balls of his feet despite his calm voice. “We’ve been getting tired of people staring at us.”

It made sense, to Seoho. They were, after all, the only people who had ever returned from the Hellscape. ‘Heroes’ wasn’t exactly what people saw them as.

‘Freaks’ was still the most appropriate description.

“But it’s not going to be ready for another hour,” Keonhee said, “because _somebody_ -“ he whipped around to glare pointedly at Dongju- “forgot to unfreeze the meat.”

Dongju looked entirely unapologetic, and even stuck his tongue out, not uttering a single word in his defense.

Youngjo place a hand on Dongju’s arm, likely to stop him from lunging forward if Keonhee decided to continue the argument, smiling warmly as he glanced between Seoho and Geonhak.

“You’re both still recovering,” he said quietly, nodding towards the hallway. “You can take a quick nap before dinner, if you want.”

Seoho had taken a nap all afternoon, and he was actually needing less and less napping to operate, but… He glanced at Geonhak. Well, this afternoon had been a different kind of strenuous than any afternoon had ever been.

He hadn’t felt tired, but at the mention of going to close his eyes for a moment, he suddenly wanted nothing more. The warm, lazy afternoon mingled with the emotional drain that came from seeing Geonhak back to normal… and Seoho was suddenly surprised he could keep his eyes open.

He frowned, though, turning to Geonhak who seemed to be considering it. “Where are you staying?” he questioned, chest tightening in anticipation.

Geonhak was still for a moment, glancing at the hallway to their bedroom. “The Head told me to just use my old room. Since it was apparently still available.”

Seoho ignored that last part, humming, suddenly feeling like it was harder to breathe, in a not-horrible way. “I think I’ll go rest for a bit,” he confessed, half because he was suddenly exhausted, and half because he knew Geonhak was entirely more likely to go rest if Seoho went first.

“ _You_ don’t get a choice,” Hwanwoong broke in before Geonhak could say a word, eyes narrowed. “Go take a nap. You look terrible. Like, really awful.”

Geonhak snorted, giving a sarcastic thanks, but Seoho had already waved to the others, abruptly hurrying down the hall, suddenly feeling like he didn’t want to be caught in that same familiar space with Geonhak right next to him.

The thought of Geonhak returning to his space- _their_ space- had rapidly deteriorated from thrilling to terrifying.

Seoho wasn’t sure he knew how to operate in a closed space with Geonhak anymore.

So, he sped through changing out of his jeans into something more comfortable before Geonhak had even entered the room. And by the time the other was opening the door slowly, looking around it like someone might stare around their childhood bedroom, looking for all the ways it had changed-

Geonhak wouldn’t find anything changed, and Seoho saw the exact moment in his eyes that he realized it was exactly as he’d left it.

Seoho practically threw himself into bed because he was a fucking coward, pulling the covers up to his shoulders and turning to face the wall.

“You can wear whatever of mine you need,” he said, staring at the drywall with wide eyes, heart beating too fast. “Turn off the light when you’re done.”

Seoho spent the next ten minutes listening to Geonhak move around, opening drawers and looking for clothes that would fit, the familiar sound of his gait and movements sounding like a memory that had haunted Seoho for months.

Despite the fact that moments ago, Seoho felt like his heart was going to pound of out his chest, the familiar sounds suddenly yanked him a year into the past, like nothing had happened. Back to a time when nothing was wrong.

Seoho hadn’t actually thought he’d be able to sleep at all with Geonhak in his space again. But under the gentle sounds of him moving back and forth, the sound of drawers sliding open and close, the pause of movement followed by quiet breaths… all of it so familiar as the Geonhak Seoho had shared a space with for years…

It felt familiar. And familiarity meant it was safe.

Seoho was asleep before Geonhak had even turned off the light.

He was sure it was mostly to do with how tired the day had made him. He chose to believe that.

Seoho slept hard and fast, the kind of sleep that went deep enough not to dream, leaving him floating in warm, endless darkness that didn’t feel like a threat anymore.

For the first time that day, Seoho truly didn’t think.

He slept peacefully.

At least, until he felt, more than heard, the body across the room shoot into a sitting position- the springs creaking with disuse, followed by the sound of labored, ragged breaths like someone bursting out from beneath the water’s surface-

“Fucking shit,” a quiet voice hissed weakly, trembling and quiet.

Seoho’s brain felt foggy and unimaginably heavy with sleep, rolling over to stare across the gentle light able to pierce through the curtains they’d drawn. He hadn’t realized how emotionally and physically exhausted he was until he was being torn out of that sleep.

Geonhak momentarily held the position of pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes, curled over himself tightly, but he laid back down quickly, staring up at the ceiling, his chest still visibly heaving as he turned his back to the room, facing the wall with deep breaths that clearly tried to calm-

In the back of his mind, Seoho knew that this was likely the first of many. The kind of nightmares that Geonhak hadn’t actually experienced since he was a child.

But, in the front of his mind, all Seoho knew was that this was his cue to move, despite the fog of sleep that made it hard to even keep his eyes open, no matter how badly his heart twisted in his chest at the thought that this was Geonhak’s new reality.

Seoho was too tired to think.

He dragged himself up, limbs feeling like they weighed a thousand pounds. The kind of tired that returning from the Hellscape had made him was incomparable to any he’d felt in his life.

Usually, he’d be rushing to Geonhak’s side, knowing that the best thing to do was remind each other they weren’t alone. He would sit up for hours- either talking or not. He would offer comfort in whatever way they needed.

Seoho was lucky he didn’t collapse on the floor as he pulled himself up, trying to rub the exhaustion from his eyes that had only grown with his half-hearted, abruptly-ended nap.

He walked over, sitting on the edge of Geonhak’s bed, as he always did, but Geonhak didn’t turn back around, still bringing in even breaths to calm down. Seoho stared at him, but his tongue felt too tired to move, as heavy as the fog in his head and the tiredness clinging to his warm limbs.

Seoho’s eyes closed halfway, despite not really being open to begin with, the darkness of the room like a dim room during a thunderstorm. His body swayed with the effort to remain upright, and he sighed quietly in defeat.

Seoho laid a hand on Geonhak’s hip, pushing it gently.

“Scoot over,” he mumbled, suppressing a yawn.

He felt Geonhak stop breathing, the room suddenly going entirely silent as Geonhak lifted his head, staring over his shoulder with tired, red eyes.

“What?” he whispered back, voice hoarse and rough.

Seoho was already drawing his legs up, moving the covers back. “I’m too tired,” he murmured, lips thick and slurring. “So scoot over…”

It wasn’t an option to leave Geonhak alone.

But Seoho was really fucking tired.

He saw Geonhak look him over, as if checking if he was being serious. But Seoho was already getting beneath the covers that were already warm, prepared to squeeze himself into the small space left between Geonhak and the edge of the bed-

Geonhak finally moved over slowly, laying close to the wall, on his back. Seoho made himself comfortable, laying on the extra pillow on his bed, facing Geonhak even though his eyes had already started closing again, dragging him back under.

He felt bad… because usually they would try and talk something out. But Seoho couldn’t have offered any effective comfort if he tried.

He was just so tired, barely even awake enough to think about what the proper response should have been.

To make up for it, he threw an arm towards Geonhak, his hand landing on his stomach gently.

“Go back to sleep,” he muttered, sinking into the mattress and dark, warm under the blankets and feeling Geonhak’s side rise and fall in a controlled manner. “I’m right here...”

It wasn’t the sort of language they usually used when comforting each other. But if Seoho wasn’t going to give him their usual physical reminder, a verbal one should make up for it.

He felt the way Geonhak’s breathing stuttered under his hand.

Seoho at least remained conscious long enough to feel his breathing smooth back out slowly, like he becoming accustomed to the presence in his bed.

Geonhak curled onto his side, facing Seoho who was awake enough to feel the movement in the environment around himself. The shift under his touch had Seoho’s hand now resting at the dip of his waist as they faced each other.

Seoho couldn’t even feel apprehensive about the new barrier that had just shattered in front of them. He was already slipping away as he felt Geonhak’s breathing even out.

It was a rare thing for either of them to ever fall back asleep after a nightmare.

Idly, he mentally apologized for not comforting Geonhak properly, especially after everything he’d been through.

But Seoho fell asleep, feeling slightly less guilty about it, knowing that Geonhak had fallen asleep first.

Seoho felt less worried, knowing he was right there, if anything did go wrong, if another nightmare crept up.

He would be right here.

He was finally right here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m soft >u<  
> Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!! 
> 
> I may be wrapping it up in the next chapter, but I may have to write a short epilogue as well! Thank you for your patience in the longer updates, lovelies! 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought! Thank you again for reading!  
> -SS


	6. Burning in a Beautiful Array of Lives Intertwined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!  
> So much happens here that I’ve been waiting for!!!!  
> I hope you all enjoy it too!! I’m so excited for this~  
> Please let me know what you think of this! I had so much fun!  
> Stay safe, lovelies!  
> -SS

Seoho woke up, for the first time in his life, with someone beside him.

He opened his eyes to sunlight, which was weird because the sun had already been going down when they went to bed.

He opened his eyes to Geonhak’s face only inches from his own, rolled close enough that Seoho’s arm was wrapped around his waist, practically embracing him in the bed, their legs thrown together haphazardly.

Seoho did not panic; he knew how he got here. But he also knew that something wasn’t right because he was way more rested than an hour nap in the afternoon should have afforded him.

Ever so carefully, he pulled his arm off of Geonhak’s waist, rolling onto his back carefully to stare around the room. It was well lit enough to suggest late morning.

The others hadn’t let them sleep all night, had they?

Groaning quietly, Seoho hauled himself out of the bed, glancing back at Geonhak as he stood to ensure he didn’t disturb him, but Geonhak didn’t so much as twitch, expression softened with a peaceful sleep.

Seoho left the room without getting dressed, rubbing his eyes at the much brighter living room that didn’t have its curtains drawn.

The rest of the dorm was empty, Seoho concluded after looking through the rooms that had doors ajar, the living room, and the empty kitchen- whose clock told him it was 10 AM, the following morning.

Seoho was on the verge of getting offended that the others had seriously let them sleep through dinner, but then he saw the note stuck to the fridge with a magnet.

_We let you guys sleep since it seemed like you needed that more than food :P_

_The rest of us are having a day out, so you guys have fun resting~ There’s leftovers in the fridge if you want them._

_Love, Hwanwoong_

_PS: You guys look super cute cuddling :D_

Seoho blew out a rough breath, rolling his eyes even as he crumpled up the note, glaring at the paper ball and vowing to smack Hwanwoong when he saw him next.

Out of spite, Seoho did not eat the leftovers.

He made a bowl of cereal, sitting at the table and staring blankly through the living room window, watching clouds blow across the sky, dark enough for him to think it might rain later.

He heard the door of their room open and close quietly, stiffening for only a moment before he relaxed, releasing a calming breath.

This… was familiar. And that was terrifying. But for now… it was good.

Geonhak appeared in the door, hair a mess and rubbing his eyes as he looked around. Seoho’s t-shirt was technically a tiny bit too small across his shoulders, but Seoho didn’t make a joke about it, merely waiting for Geonhak to speak first.

“Did… Is it morning?” he questioned, voice rough with sleep as he stared blearily out the bright living room window.

Seoho hummed the affirmative, looking at his cereal bowl calmly. “They figured we needed sleep more than food. They all headed out for the day, and left us to ‘rest,’” he muttered, chuckling with a roll of his eyes. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, if you want them.”

He did not mention the P.S.

Geonhak didn’t move immediately, though, but Seoho could feel his gaze on him, heavy and weighted and warm.

“Thanks,” he murmured quietly, making Seoho glance up.

His eyes were heavy, but it was more similar to a weighted blanket than a dumbbell dragging you down. There was something comforted there.

Seoho didn’t play dumb, merely inclining his head slowly. “Yeah,” he murmured, though that didn’t really make sense. Geonhak would understand, though. He always did.

For once, Seoho’s heart was quiet.

Sharing a bed seemed a small price to pay for that.

He took another bite of cereal, waiting for Geonhak to go find something to eat, but when he glanced back up, the other was still standing in the doorway, eyes slightly distant, like he was lost in thought, though his gaze was undeniably anchored onto Seoho.

Seoho lowered his spoon, lifting a slow eyebrow, wondering if Geonhak was really going to sit and talk through the fact Seoho had shared the bed, rather than giving their usual comfort.

But… Geonhak remained silent and still, a hand resting on the doorframe as he stared at Seoho with a softened edge around his eyes, missing any hint or speck of sharpness or hardness.

“You really didn’t touch anything in the room?”

Seoho frowned for a brief moment, running through a list of rooms he might be talking about-

His lips pressed together tightly, not colored with embarrassment, but with the knowledge of being seen and found out. He didn’t regret leaving everything of Geonhak’s side untouched, and he wasn’t embarrassed about it.

He was very conscious of everything that the knowledge carried with it, though.

“It made no sense to,” Seoho said quietly, lowering his eyes to stare at his cereal. “No one ever took the other half, and I had no reason to touch it.”

“You could have spread your stuff out.”

The thought had honestly never occurred to Seoho. That side of the room wasn’t his to take over.

Geonhak laughed, weak and quiet, but with a warmth there. “When I was talking with the Heads… they said that you never learned to play nice with the other kids.”

Seoho looked up at that, a defense on his lips, despite knowing that he had been entirely in the right.

But that defense died, seeing the quiet smile tugging at Geonhak’s lips, eyes practically burning with warmth that was aimed at Seoho with… a gentleness that winded him. Something he could only try and label as ‘gratitude’ shining quietly. 

“I know… that you wouldn’t have been a dick to them without a reason,” he said, nodding reassuringly. “I’m glad… that you didn’t have to put up with any of them.”

Maybe it was leftover exhaustion from his healing. Or maybe it was the weird sleep he’d had last night. Maybe Seoho was just flat out insane.

But he stared resolutely at his cereal.

“They weren’t you.”

He didn’t look up, unwilling to see whatever Geonhak’s reaction was.

“They were dicks, yeah,” Seoho said, tongue feeling like it was stuttering, but he could hear his voice, strong and clear. “But I’ve put up with dicks before. I put up with them for years.” He swallowed, jaw twitching stiffly. “But they weren’t you. That’s why I couldn’t stand them.”

It was a mixture of two aspects.

First, they were not Geonhak, and that meant Seoho would never be able to trust them like he needed to.

Second, that Seoho had known what it was to be treated with kindness and humanity, and he refused to willingly return to a situation where he was the one walking on eggshells.

Seoho didn’t look up. He didn’t want to know what Geonhak’s face was, because his reaction to those statements might give Seoho a hint of an answer to his unasked question.

But his eyes were already averted, his heart was already pounding weakly, his mouth was already messy with the words he wasn’t supposed to ever say… So what was one more dumbass thing to say that may only end up getting him hurt further?

That was the funny thing about bad decisions. They tended to beget more bad decisions.

“When do you leave?” Seoho asked, impressed with the steadiness of his voice, despite the way his shoulders stiffened. In the beat of silence from Geonhak, he stirred his cereal. “Are they going to let you heal completely first? Or… is it up to you?”

He tried for casual.

He missed by a mile.

But Seoho was nothing if not stubborn, and he didn’t lift his head, despite Geonhak’s silence stretching through the seconds- each passing moment of quiet making Seoho’s heart clench that much tighter as dread turned his blood cold. He wanted to close his eyes, but that would make him too obvious.

As if Geonhak couldn’t currently feel the storming fear and weakly flickering hope that kept drowning in the waves that flooded through Seoho’s body.

Sometimes, it sucked being read so easily. And sometimes, Seoho got angry because Geonhak knew exactly what was going through Seoho’s head, why was he dragging it out-

“It’s up to me,” Geonhak said quietly, voice so level and calm, it was like he was speaking through a voice-bot. Not a single emotion bled through, even to Seoho’s trained ears.

Geonhak stayed silent, which made Seoho’s grip tighten on his spoon subtly.

“So-“

“You don’t want me to leave.”

Seoho’s jaw tightened, eyes staying trained on his bowl, his grip on his spoon tightening a much more conspicuous amount, something slicing through his chest painfully deep. He stayed very still. Like he might disappear and not have to deal with gaining this particular knowledge.

“You didn’t want me to leave before, either,” Geonhak continued in a quiet murmur, and this time, Seoho could pick out an emotion in the slight pinch of his voice.

Regret. Guilt.

“You begged me to stay, and I didn’t,” he said, despite Seoho already knowing all that. His turned heavier, darker, more heavily laden with guilt. “I knew…” A pause. “I could see exactly how afraid you were… and how much you didn’t want me to go… and I still left.”

Somehow…

Somehow, in all Seoho’s hyperawareness of the parts of him that Geonhak could see… in all the moments he analyzed, knowing that Geonhak had seen even the parts that Seoho thought were hidden…

In all those musings… he’d forgotten that Geonhak had been just as privy to those parts during their goodbye. Somehow, he’d always framed it as if Geonhak was just reading his expression as he begged him to stay.

Even in the aftermath of the fresh wound, Seoho had never considered the fact that Geonhak had seen it all raging inside of him.

Seoho had even excused his leaving, rationalizing that something must have been missed.

But Geonhak had seen all of it… even those parts that Seoho hadn’t had a name for… and he’d still left.

Seoho didn’t feel a surge of betrayal or anger. His emotions didn’t change in one moment to the next, simply remaining stagnant as Geonhak took a slow breath, as if they knew there was more, refusing to pass judgement until Geonhak was finished.

Because if Geonhak knew… and he still left… that only reinforced the fact that the reason he’d left had been worth it.

“I left… because of my morals, I told you,” he continued on, voice softer, like he was admitting to some crime. “I told you that I had to go, because the only reason I was here was to protect people, and I couldn’t stay somewhere where I would be punished for that.”

Seoho knew this. He understood this.

“Ignoring the fact that my reasoning completely erases everything you were to me, I was still… wrong,” Geonhak muttered, and Seoho could imagine him shaking his head frustratedly.

Seoho chose to keep listening, letting the words wash over him without sinking in, effectively ignoring the pointedness of the ‘everything you were to me.’

“I said I was here to protect people,” he muttered, sounding angry with himself, and infinitely guilty. “To stop them from ending up like me… But I wasn’t a _hurt_ child, Seoho.”

Seoho’s entire plan went out the window as he looked up, frowning in confusion- both at the statement and the implication behind it.

He wouldn’t call raising his gaze a mistake, but it did bring him face to face with Geonhak’s tense jaw, clenched fists, but eyes that were softened into sympathy that was stained with regret so deep, Seoho didn’t need to be an empath to feel it.

Breathing got harder.

Geonhak stared at him intently, gaze steady and resolute. “My biggest scar was never physical. I wasn’t bruised and afraid and cowering,” he said with a breathless scoff. “I was just _alone_.” His jaw twitched, a flicker of old pain passing across his expression. “All the time. There always seemed to be a line between me and the rest of the world.”

Seoho knew the line well, though his had been miles thick.

“But no matter how I tried to cross it…” Geonhak brought his arms up, crossing them over his chest tightly. “It never fully disappeared. My history, my memories, my personality, my abilities… it made me different. My experiences were different from every other person I’d ever met. And maybe part of that line was put up by me, to try and protect something…”

Geonhak shook his head, another quiet scoff, like the younger him had been foolish to try and protect himself so uselessly.

“I was _always_ alone,” he murmured quietly, voice dropping, and his gaze finally wavered, looking to the side as he swallowed thickly. “Even in a system full of people like me, I was alone.” His expression stiffened. “I didn’t sit there as a child, wishing to stop hurting, to stop waking up from nightmares, to erase the scars those dark elves gave me… I never wished for that a single day in my life.”

He said it… as if those were obviously inferior things to want.

To someone like Geonhak… they probably were. Even Seoho hadn’t wished for the abuse at school to stop, for the glares and hatred to cease… In the end, that wasn’t what he wanted. Because he knew wishing for that was impossible.

He and Geonhak had both been too aware of their station in life to wish for things so impossible. 

Geonhak shifted again, half-turned away from Seoho, staring off into the distance, though his eyes were entirely present. He wasn’t lost in the past, but he was looking through it.

“I didn’t want to stop hurting… I wanted to stop being alone.”

Something broke in Seoho’s chest, not a reaction… but an echo. A repeat. A mirror. A shared experience.

Geonhak’s brow furrowed, almost like anger but not dark and stormy. “I wanted someone who would understand. I wanted to stop looking around and seeing no one I could trust. I wanted someone who would stand beside me, so it would stop feeling like it was me against the world.”

His knuckles were white atop his crossed arms, his distant eyes glassy.

“I wanted to stop being alone so _badly_ , it scared me- both then and now.” He chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, shaking his head, voice rough. “It terrified me, because I’d had my parents all my life and then in an instant, I lost them. And I knew… that nothing was permanent.”

All Seoho heard was an echo of himself, and that was equally as terrifying.

“I wanted to stop being alone so fucking _badly_ ,” he hissed, expression twisting painfully for a moment, “but I was terrified that even if I stopped being alone, I would lose that person too. That even if I managed to miraculously find someone, I’d just end up alone again, sooner or later.”

Geonhak looked back at Seoho for the first time, jaw tense and eyes glassy, stormy, pained, apologetic-

Guilty. 

His voice came out calmer, quieter… but no less heavy, like he was slowly attaching his own chains.

“I wanted to stop people from ending up like me,” he rasped, eyes locked onto Seoho’s. “Alone. Afraid to lose every little thing they’d fought tooth and nail to gain. Trying to find literally anyone in the world that they could trust.” His fists twitched, eyes darkening with an anger that was self-directed. “I was so obsessed with that… and yet, I walked away when I knew damn well that I was taking that person away from you.”

Taking him away…

Geonhak was not the only person Seoho trusted. But he was the only person Seoho trusted in this specific way.

And Geonhak knew that. 

“I forgot… that you had fought just as hard to hold onto me-“ He stopped, the determination in his eyes fading to shame. Regret. More anger. “No,” he amended quietly shaking his head softly. “No, I didn’t forget.” His voice turned bitter, a little darker, and all of it was aimed directly back at Geonhak.

There was something on the tip of Seoho’s tongue, maybe a comfort, but it was all clogged, all paralyzed, all too much in his throat that was too tight and too dry-

“That was all I could think about as I was walking away,” Geonhak confessed roughly. “That I was doing that to you. But… I still left.” The bitterness increased. “I _knew_ all this, I thought of it before I ever walk away… and I still left.”

_I still left._

It was the final gavel coming down to Geonhak’s self-judging. The final statement of regret.

Seoho vaguely wondered if he _should_ feel anger. He didn’t.

Seoho stared, throat feeling like sandpaper, and he had only one question on the tip of his tongue, clogging his breath from passing through.

“Then why did you leave?” 

It wasn’t an accusation. Nor a demand. Nor was it filled with any kind of resentment.

It was a plain, simple inquiry- only for the purpose of gaining knowledge and understanding. It was a quiet question of someone left in the dark, even after having so much revealed.

If Geonhak had been so aware… If it had clearly been against his better judgement… why did he leave?

Geonhak was silent, immobile, as if he was gathering his thoughts.

There was a quiet breath in. Out. Seoho was suddenly glad that the others were gone, and partially wondered if this would have ever been revealed if they had been here, still.

“It… was because I wanted to keep protecting people,” Geonhak assured him, looking at Seoho with an expression that begged him to understand that. “I genuinely believed that I wouldn’t be able to keep protecting people if I stayed here… I’m just sorry… that I prioritized those people over you.”

“That’s what we’re supposed to do,” Seoho found himself saying, the words falling off his tongue without hesitation. “The same as the battle you left me during- I can look out for myself, I don’t need-“

“I was a hypocrite,” Geonhak broke in, clearly putting that to rest. “But I did, genuinely, whole heartedly believe that if this agency was going to punish me for protecting people, I needed to leave.”

Seoho was silent, heart pausing mid-beat to hold its breath, waiting for the ‘but.’

“But,” Geonhak said roughly, quietly, “I… There were other things…” He trailed off, eyes becoming more distant, lips pressing together in contemplation. “You wanted me to be honest about what was going through my head,” he said calmly. “At that time, there were other things… that sort of exacerbated me leaving.”

Exacerbated…

In the end… nothing had changed, had it? That resignation was heavy in Seoho’s chest.

Geonhak’s morals were still in place, that exacerbation couldn’t just go away, and the agency likely still held its opinions.

So… this was Geonhak’s way of saying that even though he regrets it, that he thought he was wrong, that he wished he had done something different… he’d still done it. And he was probably going to do it again.

Seoho hated him for that. (He didn’t.)

“So… you are leaving.”

Seoho watched, through a heavy gaze, as Geonhak’s expression flickered, stuttering like a projector screen glitching- flashing through confusion, then a darker confusion, then shock and bewilderment-

“What part of everything I just said sounds like I want to leave again?” he demanded, so affronted that Seoho could have laughed if he didn’t feel like suddenly throwing up.

“Nothing’s changed, though,” he argued, brow drawing down heavily. “You, the situation, the agency-“

“I was a hypocrite before,” Geonhak said, such clarity to his voice it was like a smack to the head. “I left to protect people, but to do that I did something worse than abandoning my partner in the field.”

Regret… was not a foreign emotion in Geonhak. Seoho had seen it before.

But never… this particular kind of guilt.

Geonhak practically glared at Seoho, frustrated and daring him to argue again.

“If staying means that I get that mark on my record, then _fine_ ,” he said roughly, tossing his hands up to show he was done with it. “That mark is worth it… if I get to keep my morals.” His lips thinned, fists curling slowly. “And my morals back then, and now, have always been in agreement. I never should have left.”

Seoho stared at him, and Geonhak looked back.

The distance between them seemed huge and yet, as if they were standing nose to nose.

Given that he still didn’t necessarily understand, Seoho almost wanted to ask again: _Then why did you leave?_

He didn’t, though.

“So… you’re going to stay?” Seoho questioned quietly, not trusting his voice to go higher.

Geonhak inclined his head slowly. “I’m going to talk to the Heads about being reinstated into the agency. At the very least… I know there’s an opening on at least one team.” His lips twitched, a gentle offering to get rid of the heavy atmosphere they’d been cultivating.

Seoho didn’t feel the rush of relief that he expected to- not breathless or knocking him over or overwhelming, like he’d expected. Instead, there was something almost satisfied clicking into place in his chest, like a final puzzle piece snapping into place.

The picture was whole now.

“Stop standing around and get something to eat,” Seoho said, looking up at Geonhak, unimpressed. “You probably didn’t eat anything yesterday.”

Geonhak grinned, small but genuine as he pushed off the doorframe, finally entering the kitchen completely. “Excuse me, I was unconscious for most of it.”

“Excuses,” Seoho muttered, rolling his eyes and feeling his lips tug as Geonhak went to the fridge to search through its contents.

Seoho stared at his back.

It was strange, how even things that had been familiar for years upon years could become foreign within a single one. Geonhak had only been gone a year, but somehow everything Seoho had built a routine with him for seemed both foreign and entirely nostalgic.

Nostalgia for a time not even a year ago… It made him sound old.

Geonhak tossed some sort of tupperware into the microwave for a minute, sitting across from Seoho at the table to eat it straight from the container. There was silence as Geonhak ate, clearly hungry after missing those meals, and Seoho ate the rest of his now slightly soggy cereal.

Seoho took equal parts comfort and discomfort from the silence and presence of Geonhak in front of him. He was both elated and numb to the idea that Geonhak was going to stay.

After so long of accepting things as unchangeable, it was unsettling to see them change, even in the ways that Seoho had been begging them to shift.

If Seoho were being truly pessimistic, as he often ended up being when left inside his own head for too long (say, during a silent meal), he would let his thoughts wander to darker places that he really didn’t want to entertain, especially fresh from the realization that Geonhak was going to be staying.

If he were being truly pessimistic, Seoho would ask what was keeping Geonhak from leaving again.

It was an entirely unfair question that he would never voice because it wasn’t Geonhak’s fault he left, no matter what conflicted feelings Geonhak had about his reasoning and hypocrisy. Regardless of anything and everything, Geonhak was not wrong for leaving. He didn’t deserve to have Seoho grilling him and being paranoid when it was clear that leaving… leaving had been painful for Geonhak, too.

But, in the back of his mind… in a way that was almost more plotting than insecure, Seoho tried to categorize the reasons that Geonhak left and the likelihood that those would happen again.

Realistically, what was the likelihood that he left again?

His morals. Geonhak had already expressed that he felt like leaving Seoho had compromised his morals worse than staying at the agency would have. He wasn’t eager or likely to repeat it.

The agency. Geonhak hadn’t committed any crime in the eyes of the system. He’d merely removed himself from affiliation, and there was nothing against coming back to a agency after leaving. He’d receive the prior mark on his record from abandoning Seoho during that battle a year ago. But Geonhak had already said he didn’t care about that. The agency was not another reason to leave, right now.

An ‘exacerbation’… Seoho didn’t know what that was. And without knowing what it was, he couldn’t know how likely it was to happen again, or if it was even still going on.

Because if this ‘exacerbation’ had been enough to push Geonhak over the edge of going against his better judgement and leaving… then it was currently the largest unknown and the largest threat to Seoho’s slowly realigning world.

Geonhak stood when he finished his food, grabbing Seoho’s empty cereal bowl (which made Seoho jump, snapping out of his own head), and he watched Geonhak take them to the sink, rinsing them.

The numb part of his chest was slowly regaining feeling as he stared at Geonhak, acknowledging the fact that he had been assured he was staying… and felt his heart twist at the thought that this singular unknown could be the thing that brought it all crashing down again.

Geonhak leaving again had been a painfully unthinkable occurrence.

Losing Geonhak, sometime in the distant future, after he’d been promised he’d stay… after he’d been told that, somehow, Seoho was worth equal or more to all the others Geonhak had promise and tried to protect…

Seoho was unprepared for the way his heart wrenched at the thought of going through that goodbye again, knowing everything he did.

Geonhak turned around rapidly, eyes searching for a moment before landing on Seoho in heavily concerned confusion, clearly trying to pinpoint what had caused the sudden spike in emotions.

“What?” he questioned quietly, using that tone he always had when he was pretty sure Seoho didn’t really understand what he was feeling. Undemanding, but gently concerned and calm.

Seoho swallowed down that sudden ache in his chest, keeping his expression level because Geonhak could already feel the storm in his chest, he didn’t need to see it on his face, too.

Seoho was pretty sure he didn’t have a right to ask… but Seoho had also stopped caring about certain things.

(Not Geonhak, though. Somehow, he’d never quite managed that. Not that he’d tried all that hard to begin with.)

Geonhak shut off the water when Seoho didn’t immediately answer, still angled towards the sink to appear less threatening. He didn’t ask again. And Seoho drew one leg up onto his chair, hugging his knee to his chest, like it might create a protective barrier between the two of them.

“What was it?” he asked slowly, calmly, without letting himself hear the words. “The thing… that exacerbated you leaving?”

Geonhak did a good job of trying to hide the way his face paled a little, his shoulders stiffening, his expression tightening, his grip tightening on the sink like he needed the extra support-

He did a good job of hiding those things… but not the foreign flicker of panic that Seoho felt rush through his bloodstream, followed by something darker-

Seoho flinched as the panic cut out, like a door being slammed shut, a hole plugged shut, a line forcibly cut-

He stared at Geonhak who was doing a considerably less good job of hiding the emotions hidden in his eyes, his own eyes wide and startled at the violent foreign emotions that had cut off so suddenly-

“Sorry,” Geonhak murmured, no longer facing the sink but staring Seoho straight on, slightly dazed, like he wasn’t able to quite focus. “Sorry, I-“ He stopped, looking like he was fighting some internal battle-

He looked startlingly similar to the first time he and Seoho had faced dark elves in battle. That same blind panic that made Seoho want to shake him, to get the fear out of his eyes.

Seoho dropped his leg, the lingering sense of dread in his bloodstream as he stood slowly. “Geonhak-“

His quiet call was cut off as Geonhak shook his head quickly. “No, I’m fine, I’m-“ He stopped. “I’m just… I’m trying to figure out-“ He shook his head again, and Seoho took a slow step forward.

He stared at the distance between them, trying to decide if it was wise to cross it. He wanted to cross it. Because… Because…

Because Geonhak was back. And Seoho was not going to lose him again- to an ‘exacerbation’ or his own demons.

“I didn’t-“

“Later,” Geonhak broke in, sounding firm, though his eyes were fixed firmly on the floor, distant. “I… I’ll tell you later, I promise, but-“

“You don’t have to tell me at all.”

Geonhak’s eyes flickered up, strained but familiar. Seoho had learned how to offer comfort to Geonhak particularly. Giving it to anyone else always felt clunky and odd. But here, it felt like trying to offer it to someone else, like Seoho didn’t know which of their lines and paths were still there and which had faded. Or which new ones had appeared.

“You said it before,” Seoho muttered, glancing away to give Geonhak privacy enough to feel. “I… I missed you, and I’m worried about you,” he said quickly before he lost the nerve to voice it. 

In another situation, Geonhak might have smirked at getting Seoho to voice it. Not this time.

“But you don’t owe me anything,” he said firmly. “Even if I’m obnoxious about asking, you don’t have to tell me anything. Especially not before you want to-“

“I want to,” Geonhak said quietly, like he was having trouble getting enough air.

Seoho glanced up, Geonhak’s eyes glassy, but they were clear as crystal in the way they bored into Seoho’s, like they could see everything, and Seoho knew they could.

“I wanted to since before I left,” he assured Seoho weakly. “I wanted to tell you for years before that, but… but I kept putting it off, and I convinced myself not to. I made a dumbass decision again, and I didn’t tell you, even though you deserved to know. You had a _right_ to know.”

Seoho stared, slightly stunned.

“It… It’s been going on for that long?” he whispered hoarsely. “Years?” His heart pounded slowly, but each beat bordered on painful. “What… What do I have to do with it?”

Seoho hadn’t bothered feeling responsible for the newly mention exacerbation because he’d been so sure that he hadn’t had anything to do with it. That it must have been something internal or something in Geonhak’s personal life (whatever that was, when _they_ were his personal life). 

But if Seoho had a right to know… then it most definitely involved him.

Geonhak looked stricken, opening his mouth to undoubtedly reassure Seoho that that wasn’t what he meant-

Seoho beat him to it, guilt gnawing at his stomach as he waved a hand quickly, shaking his head sharply. “Don’t,” he broke in firmly before Geonhak could speak. “Don’t, just… Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Because Geonhak was not okay.

They both knew he wasn’t, and that he wouldn’t be for a while, maybe.

And Seoho did not risk himself, his sanity, his team, and all their lives to get Geonhak back, just to be the one who made him feel trapped, cornered, panicked- whatever the fuck was going through his head at the moment.

“When I said I wanted to know what was going through your head… I didn’t mean that you needed to tell me everything,” he said quietly, lowering his hand as Geonhak stared at him, still stricken, but softened. “I mean… that I want you to understand that there is literally nothing you could tell me that would end badly.”

“Seoho-“

Geonhak cut himself off, stopping the quiet name that sounded a little broken, like he was on the verge of breaking.

“Literally nothing,” Seoho repeated, firmer, eyes hardening. “After all the shit you went through helping me figure myself out, you could tell me literally anything, and I would try and help you. I wouldn’t judge you, I wouldn’t find it a burden, I wouldn’t brush it off-“ He took a sharp breath. “That’s what I meant. That’s what I want you to understand.”

Geonhak’s expression was of someone who was convinced that they had something that fell outside the bounds of “literally anything.” Like whatever he was holding in his chest would definitely be enough to break something.

Seoho really, truly, highly, inherently doubted it.

No.

Seoho _rejected_ it. Now it was a challenge. And Seoho didn’t care if Geonhak told him he’d killed someone, that he was leaving again, that he was joining a different team- Just to prove him wrong, Seoho clung to the idea of “literally nothing” ever tighter.

Geonhak looked away at long length, breathing out slowly as he straightened. He seemed to have calmed down, though he looked anything but calm.

Seoho suddenly regretted ever questioning the fact that Geonhak hadn’t been unbalanced, a mess, harried, like Seoho had been. He didn’t want Geonhak to have to feel like this. He didn’t want to have to see him like this when he knew damn well how impossible it was to help when you felt like that.

“I… I think I’m going to take another nap,” Geonhak said quietly, nodding towards the door unsteadily. “I’m… I’m tired again.” 

Seoho might have joked that he’d just woken up, but he also understood the bone-deep tiredness that everything had brought about. He merely nodded as Geonhak brushed passed him, not looking over as he strode towards the door quietly.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Seoho asked. Because maybe Geonhak was going to get away from him. But maybe he was just tired and wanted to stop the conversation. Maybe he wanted company and maybe he didn’t.

But Seoho knew that Geonhak would probably never ask for it, even if he wanted it.

He turned back around, staring back at Seoho in slight surprise that melted into something soft and exhaustion. “No, you don’t have to-“

“I didn’t ask what I had to do,” Seoho said bluntly, taking a step forward with a gentle glare.

Geonhak stared at him and he chuckled, dropping his head and shaking it slowly. A quiet, heavy laugh, but it wasn’t bitter. It was tired, but it was… grateful. Not grateful, but Seoho was shit at naming emotions.

It was a laugh- genuine- and it made Seoho’s chest feel a little lighter.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re shit at being tactful?” Geonhak asked, voice shaking with unsteady amusement, like laughing had only brought him closer to breaking down. 

“Countless times,” Seoho deadpanned. “Endlessly. Mostly from you. Though, others have said the same.” 

The snort that came from Geonhak was genuine enough that even Seoho couldn’t stop the twitch of his lips, the other’s fist clenching in a threat of violence that they both knew he was too drained to execute.

Geonhak’s expression softened, edging ever closer to calm, instead of the tight, lost countenance from before. “Sure,” he finally said, turning away from Seoho and already walking away. “We’ll make it a party.”

Seoho could have retorted, but he decided to be the bigger person. Geonhak had better be grateful.

The room was still dim, the curtains drawn, but the stronger light of almost noon making it easier to see as Geonhak sat heavily on the edge of his bed, and Seoho stood in the middle of the room for a moment, glancing at both their beds.

He didn’t want to assume, but…

Geonhak smiled quietly, nodding at Seoho’s bed. “Go ahead.”

Seoho sat on the edge of it, scooting back until his back hit the wall, Geonhak laying down on his own bed, drawing the covers up tightly, facing Seoho, though it was hard to make out his expression in the lighting.

“You can leave if you get bored-“

“Shut the fuck up and go to sleep,” Seoho scoffed, rolling his eyes- familiar, comfortable words.

Geonhak chuckled, shifting around to get comfortable, settling on his side with his back to Seoho.

Seoho was surprised by how well his brain behaved, not hyper fixating on everything Geonhak hadn’t told him, or everything he still didn’t know, everything it implied… He watched Geonhak quietly, listening to him breathe, and though it made him feel lethargic and warmly tired, he didn’t try and sleep.

He was content to sit up, rest his eyes occasionally, and just keep an eye and ear out for any signs of things going poorly over on Geonhak’s side. He watched the little clock on their wall count down an hour.

At just an hour and a half, when Seoho had dozed slightly and woken back up, and after he’d stretched his legs out to stop them from cramping, he heard the distant sound of the dorm’s door opening and closing.

It did so quietly and quickly, so it was probably only one of them and, more than likely, it was Youngjo.

That was confirmed a moment later when the door of their room cracked open ever so slightly, clearly checking for if they were asleep. Seoho saw Youngjo’s head poke in, backlit by the hall light as he noticed Seoho sitting up.

“Oh, good,” he whispered, opening the door, glancing at Geonhak sleeping. “The Heads want you to go in for some questions. The rest of us just finished up, but they were adamant about having all the questioning done at once.”

“I thought you were having a day out?” Seoho questioned, frowning as he moved to the edge of the bed.

Youngjo smiled, though he rolled his eyes. “We were. And then the Heads pulled us in for questioning.” He glanced over. “They want Geonhak to come in, too, but they can shove it until he wakes up.” He gestured for Seoho to come on.

Seoho went to stand, hesitating for only a moment as he stared across the room at the quiet rise and fall. It wasn’t like things would go horribly wrong if he left, or if Geonhak had a nightmare or something… but still…

“Can you stay with him?” Seoho requested as he stood, crossing the room slowly. “I just don’t want him to wake up alone in an empty dorm. I know you and the others-“

Youngjo made an impatient nose, swatting Seoho’s shoulder and nodding, accepting the task without complaint. He let Seoho get halfway out the door, expression gentle in the light as he glanced between the two of them.

“Did you two… talk?” he whispered when Seoho paused.

Seoho chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, considering his phrasing. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “About a bunch of stuff… He said he wants to stay and reapply for the agency.” He swallowed the stone in his throat. “He wants to tell me something later… but it was obvious it was something… that was upsetting him.”

Seoho couldn’t quite imagine another time when Geonhak had seemed so panicked for something seemingly so innocent. Especially enough that Seoho had been able to feel it. 

Youngjo’s eyes tightened ever so slightly as he smiled quietly. “I’m glad,” he murmured, glancing back at Geonhak. “I knew that if he ended up back here, he wouldn’t leave again,” he said confidently. “You both deserve having each other.”

Seoho blinked, taken aback by the… gentle statement.

“What does that mean?” he questioned, trying to make it sound like he was laughing, but his stomach was flipping.

Youngjo glanced at him, as if wondering how that could be a question, but he merely smiled, a little indulgent. “I didn’t think I would be the one to explain how much the two of you mean to each other. How much you’ve changed each other.”

“Well, no, I get that,” Seoho said, feeling slightly scolded, despite nothing about that statement being harsh. “I’m just- You used the word ‘deserve’ and stuff, and so I was just asking.”

Youngjo was still smiling that indulgent smile, almost like he knew something Seoho didn’t. Or like he could see something Seoho couldn’t.

“I knew Geonhak at our old agency,” Youngjo said quietly, eyes soft in the way they always were. “Not well- Nobody really knew him well. Not even his partner, when you asked her about him.”

Youngjo chuckled, like this was funny.

“And listen, Seoho… This doesn’t dimmish anything that you and Geonhak have built or established or changed… but you haven’t known a Geonhak that didn’t know you.”

Seoho’s lips thinned, bracing himself as Youngjo just looked at him with something close to fondness, but was also a little sad.

“And I promise you,” he pressed quietly, “that if you did… you would never, in your entire life, doubt everything you are to him.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Seoho said firmly, a little defensive. “I’ve never doubted that-“

“You aren’t the picture of self-confidence,” Youngjo said, blunt but gentle, making Seoho blink at the statement. “You may not doubt it… but both you and Geonhak are both the type to underestimate your importance to each other.”

“That is literally impossible,” Seoho said, rolling his eyes. “Geonhak can read emotions.”

“And Geonhak has quite literally told and shown you an infinite number of times, over the course of the time you’ve known him, just how much you’ve changed him, how much you mean to him, how much he cares about you… and you still probably think that he’s going to leave again, one day.”

Seoho took a reflexive step back, mouth opening to defend himself even as a needle slowly shoved its way through his heart-

“And that’s okay,” Youngjo said firmly, smiling like Seoho was being an idiot again. “But what I’m telling you, as an outsider who’s seen, at the very least, the difference between Geonhak back then and now… I’m telling you, you would never doubt that you mean more than the world and everything else to Geonhak. And even he couldn’t find a way to tell you that straight out. So I’m telling you.”

Seoho… knew that. To an extent. Like, he could piece that together. But…

“He might still leave, one day,” Seoho said quietly. “And that’s not his fault, everyone has their reasons-“

“Okay, let me rephrase that, then,” Youngjo chuckled, though his eyes were completely serious. “Geonhak is never going to leave _you_ again.” 

Seoho froze.

“Whether he leaves the company again, whether he leaves our team, the system, whatever-“ Youngjo waved a hand, like the list went on and was inconsequential. “At this point? Geonhak is never going to leave you again.”

Seoho didn’t know what to say to that.

He didn’t even know if he was breathing.

He probably wasn’t.

“Because I’ve seen Geonhak before and after he met you,” Youngjo murmured softly. “And I know that leaving you would have brought him right back to the way he was before he met you. And I know that he’s never going to go back to that again.”

Seoho didn’t know how to voice the hundreds of questions clinging to his tongue.

Namely, about why Youngjo was so sure, how he knew this, why he was telling Seoho this now of all times-

But he just stared. And Youngjo chuckled sympathetically, laying a hand on Seoho’s shoulder and squeezing.

“I shouldn’t have dropped all that on you,” He said apologetically. “But it didn’t seem right to try and say it while he was gone… and I figure its best to understand this as soon as possible. Before he talks to you about everything else.”

Seoho nodded, only because he didn’t have enough brain function to think of anything else to do.

“It’s not meant to be a burden,” Youngjo said calmly. “I just want you to remember it. That… you cannot possibly imagine what you’ve done for Geonhak… and all the ways that undergoing such a massive change can… alter things,” he said delicately. “It changes everything about you as a person. You, of all people, understand that.”

Seoho understood. Because Seoho had been one of those people undergoing a massive change, without his consent, the moment Geonhak sat down at his table.

Seoho didn’t understand how all of this connected or why it was so important he understand it now. But Youngjo had the fucking audacity to smile, pat his shoulder, and push him forward.

“Alright, now go talk to the Heads.”

“You’re an asshole,” Seoho managed to snap, though his brain was still hazy and lagging. “You couldn’t have waited until later to tell me?”

“I didn’t want to tell you too late,” he excused with a shrug, as if there was some due date for when Seoho needed to know this. “And I figured it was best to tell you alone, and who knows when next you’ll be unglued from Geonhak’s side.”

Seoho could have thrown something at him.

But once more, he chose to be the bigger person. Or, at least, the more tired person. He could have argued with Youngjo more, but at the moment, he just wanted to get the questioning over with, take a walk to clear his head, and maybe take a nap later.

“Seoho.”

He turned back, seeing Youngjo sticking his head back into the hall, sympathy shining in his eyes. “You don’t have to hurry back,” he assured him.

Seoho rolled his eyes, waving him off with a noise of understanding because Youngjo was just nice like that. But Seoho knew he’d probably need to get back here as soon as possible.

The walk to the Heads’ office was mechanical, Seoho staring at his feet and hardly lifting his eyes.

He knew quite a bit about Geonhak before he joined this agency, partnered with Seoho, and joined their team. Their pasts were one of the most talked-about things. He knew, even just based on what Geonhak had _just_ told him, that Geonhak had been isolated most of his life.

As an orphan, as someone scarred from what had happened to him, as someone with what was considered a rather invasive power, as someone with his particular personality- a mixture of reservation and flat-out desire not to talk anymore than necessary… all of it set him apart.

Sometimes by his choice, and sometimes against his will.

Geonhak had wanted someone who would help him protect people. That had been nearly impossible to find to the extent Geonhak needed it.

He knew that he and Geonhak had built a friendship, a trust, something deeper than words or even colors could describe-

Seoho didn’t know how it all fit together. But he was sure he’d find out eventually.

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out, though. Youngjo’s rather pointed reminder that Seoho was special to Geonhak… on top of Geonhak’s clear fear to reveal something to Seoho, as if he was sure that revelation would break something between them… It only made him more afraid.

If, as Youngjo said, Geonhak valued Seoho more than even Seoho could imagine, if he would never leave Seoho again… then what could possibly be so earth-shattering to make Geonhak so afraid?

How could this same exacerbation be something that terrified him now, and had caused him to leave, before? How could those two instances exist in the same world that Youngjo described- one that Seoho couldn’t imagine because he hadn’t known a Geonhak that hadn’t known him?

How did it all _fit?_

Seoho didn’t have answers.

But he did a fucking shitty time trying to argue his way through the questions the Heads threw at him, while trying not to think about the tornado slamming its way through his head, making him almost dizzy with questions.

He wanted to push Geonhak to talk to him now, but he wouldn’t.

Seoho, of all people, understood that some emotions were painful to an unimaginable level to try and expression.

He left the Heads’ office an hour later, mentally exhausted and physically drained form the effort of not getting lost in his head. He wasn’t sure where he was going or what he was doing, but he kept rubbing at his eyes as he stumbled his way through the halls.

He should go back to the dorm. He should go take a nap in their room, and let Youngjo go back to his day out.

But Seoho found himself standing outside, the door swinging shut behind him and a cool breeze ruffling through his hair, a fresh breath after not realizing he was suffocating. He took a deep breath, clearing some of the haze in his head, the relief of it making his eyes burn.

He just needed to take a walk. Youngjo… Youngjo had told him he didn’t need to hurry back. But Seoho did need to clear his head.

He walked down to the stream because of course he did. Everything always seemed to happen at the stream.

Seoho had once thought of the stream as his, but he’d realized very quickly, it was theirs. His and Geonhak’s. Seoho could count on both hands the number of times he had been without Geonhak showing up at some point- before he’d left, of course.

The years before that, he either always joined him, dragged him out of his head, or kicked him into the water below.

Seoho stood at the edge of the little drop, watching the water ripple across the rocks.

He’d never come here because it was peaceful. He came because it was away from people and he didn’t have to worry about explaining anything he was doing. But more and more… coming to the stream had only highlighted how much this place was stained and soaked and permeated with memories that Seoho hadn’t realized he’d clung to.

All of them looked the same: Geonhak and Seoho standing or sitting at the stream. The only thing that changed was their moods and conversation.

A thousand, a million scenes overlaid, like countless photographs, all of them lining up perfectly with only the barest change to notice.

Geonhak had always brought consistency with him.

Seoho sat when his legs felt like they wouldn’t hold him up anymore.

He laid down when holding himself up felt too heavy.

He closed his eyes when the sun got too bright.

He didn’t intend to sleep, but when the alternative was sitting here in silence, the echoes of both conversations from this morning pounding around his head, his body made the choice for him.

Seoho fell asleep where it was warm, in a place that was familiar. A place where Geonhak wasn’t, but that he had been enough, it felt like he was.

Seoho had long since learned that sometimes, sleeping doesn’t mean you stop thinking.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Part of Geonhak wished that it had been more earth shattering when it happened.

He wished he would have been able to focus on it, to analyze it beyond the quick glance he managed before it disappeared.

He wished they had been doing something more groundbreaking than talking in the cafeteria.

They weren’t even talking about something dark or personal, like they sometimes did.

Geonhak had been so lost in the moment, like he always was when Seoho told stories, letting the words wash over him, listening, but with a passive calmness with the familiarity of sitting alone at lunch and just droning on about anything.

He didn’t even know what Seoho had said, exactly, just before it happened, but Geonhak knew they had been talking about something from their training session earlier.

Sometimes, he thought he remembered it being Seoho ranting about how well they executed the fall from the building- Seoho’s shield catching them at just the right moment for Geonhak to wrap a whip around a jagged stack of stone and catch Seoho by the arm before they hit the ground.

It had been a thrilling success for Geonhak, too- a split second maneuver that they’d somehow pulled off. They’d both been practically screaming in each other’s faces in shock, grabbing each other and shaking in shocked celebration.

It had been thrilling.

It happened in the blink of an eye.

Geonhak blinked, watching Seoho’s hand make vague gestures that were probably describing the scene during training, the calming neutral blue color that usually surrounded Seoho floating around him so familiarly, Geonhak had learned to ignore it, simply seeing it as part of Seoho.

When he opened his eyes, he saw red.

Geonhak blinked, but he was used to keeping his reactions hidden as he watched the colors around Seoho behave in a way that he’d never seen before. And Geonhak had spent a lot of time analyzing and categorizing Seoho’s emotions and the ways they manifested.

His usual state was a neutral blue: neither light nor dark, and it was like a fine mist clinging around his skin- gentle, normal, and soothing.

(The second most common was a vibrant green that would flicker around him, almost like fire, when he in the middle of battle and there was no room for any other emotion but determination and focus.)

(Geonhak had learned that things people usually labeled as “emotions” weren’t the extent of them. His colors didn’t stop at happy and sad, but stretching into states of being and manifesting desires like focus, determination, or being lost.)

That vibrant green was also normal to see.

Seoho was also more of a mixing pot than any other person Geonhak had seen before.

It wasn’t uncommon for multiple feelings to manifest at once, though there was usually a main emotion that guided the others. However, Geonhak rarely saw Seoho without at least two emotions intertwining.

Namely, a main emotion guiding him, and the gentle, nearly-transparent presence of fear, nervousness, or uncertainty.

Because every positive emotion Seoho experienced was foreign, and he was afraid of what he didn’t understand. And every negative emotion he experienced was so familiar, he felt as if that was all he’d be able to feel again. Geonhak was extremely proud to say that fear and uncertainty had lessened over the years, and it was more uncommon than ever to actually see it in any significant sense.

The red almost seemed like that fear- something background, unnoticed, instinctive rather than conscious…

Geonhak watched the red- nearly transparent- thread through the blue mist, fine like spider silk, almost lost among the other color, but it caught the light just enough that Geonhak’s eyes followed it.

He didn’t realize he felt sick until the red suddenly disappeared in another blink, highlighting the way his stomach had flipped upside down-

A deep purple dropped into the mist like dye into water- staining it.

“What?” Seoho questioned, frowning in worry, which meant that Geonhak must have forgotten to keep his expression in check and he quickly got rid of whatever horrific or disturbed expression he must have been wearing.

“Nothing,” he said, too quickly, making Seoho give him a look, asking how stupid he thought he was.

“What?” Seoho repeated calmly, glancing behind himself where Geonhak must have been looking. “You looked like someone just slapped you.” When he turned back, there was still the lightness of joking, but it was marred with a crease between his brows.

Geonhak shook his head, though, focusing on his food. “Someone just… had a really weird emotion over there.”

By the pointed silence that followed, he could tell Seoho didn’t quite believe him. Or at least, he was skeptical, checking over his shoulder again… but it was pretty common for Geonhak to get shudders, weird expressions, small winces when certain kinds of emotions were visible.

Whether he truly believed him or not, Seoho hummed, accepting it. “Anyway,” he said, because they always just moved on when that happened. “So, I think it was pretty fucking lucky I got the shield down in time, but I think we can actually calculate that so we’re not just guessing-“

The red didn’t show up again.

Geonhak kept watching for it. Because even if he’d never seen it in real life, outside of controlled environment training he’d done as a kid… he knew what that particular shade meant.

The more complex the emotion, the harder it was to label its shade. It was clearly red, but it wasn’t dark. Neither was it light. Nor was it neutral. It almost seemed viscous and moving, shifting and catching the light at a hundred different angles.

It didn’t matter if he could describe it. He knew what it meant.

But then it never showed up again…and Geonhak almost forgot about it. It wasn’t uncommon for unconscious emotions to show up once and then never again. Sometimes, people got unfounded rage or hatred for something, but then their consciousness took over and shut it down.

Geonhak didn’t wonder who the red might have been for, and he forgot all about it in the following weeks of intense training and flood of missions.

He forgot about it.

Until about six months later, he and Seoho had spent the day without anything to do, walking around aimlessly.

Geonhak wished they had been doing something more than just talking.

He wished he could remember more of what caused it, but all he remembered was Seoho shouldering him off the concrete path they were walking on.

When Geonhak caught himself, shoving back with a fist raised-

He saw the stunning yellow wrapped around his arm like a vine, that wasn’t unusual.

But the crisscrossing threads of red were.

Geonhak stuttered, dropping his arm like he’d been burned, and only the fear that Seoho would ask what was wrong made him continue his movement, hitting his shoulder against Seoho’s hands that were braced to protect himself.

He forced himself not to think about it.

Not even when Seoho found him by the stream and they talked about it.

Not even three week later, when Geonhak was sprinting up the hill in soaking wet clothes, after Seoho who was running like his life depended on it, looking over his shoulder with glee mixed with horror at what he’d actually done mixed with a tinge of laughter.

Yes, laughter was an emotion. 

He forgot about it until he was watching his usual shade of vibrant purple cling to his arms sparking with yellow bursts as he yelled every threat he wouldn’t actually enact at Seoho who looked like he wasn’t going to stop until he had at least three witnesses in their vicinity.

“ _You_ -“

Geonhak was laughing too hard to finish, speeding up-

He glanced at his arms, seeing a spiderweb of red stretch across the purple and yellow sunbursts.

He tripped, hitting the ground hard and rolling several times back down the hill before his mind stopped stuttering enough to give him the control to stop himself, staring at the grass with his mouth open, eyes wide, and stomach feeling like he was about to throw up.

He stared at his hands, waiting for the red to fade. It didn’t.

“Geonhak-“ Seoho’s voice sounded right beside him, breathless from the run and laughing too hard, hands grabbing his arms. “Don’t hit me- Truce,” he panted, still laughing as he dragged Geonhak back to his feet, grinning too wide and too smug. “If this is an act to get me to lower my guard-“

Geonhak wasn’t even thinking about the fact Seoho shoved him into the stream, but he did have enough sense of mind to control his expression from one of utter shock and fear, managing to turn it neutral and unimpressed.

Seoho only laughed harder at the annoyance across his face, standing with a roll of his eyes and offering a hand down. “Come on. I’ll buy you something from a vending machine to make it up to you.”

Geonhak hadn’t realized how hard he was breathing until he tried to calm it, staring at Seoho for a moment too long, almost making the other frown in concern, but Geonhak forced his arm to move and take Seoho’s hand.

He stared at his own skin, the spiderweb infinitely thicker and darker than he had seen on Seoho.

This thing wasn’t going away… was it.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho woke up to Dongju stepping on his stomach, forcing him awake with a breathless _oof-_

The youngest stared down at him, smirking with glee at his actions and annoyance from something else. Seoho was too busy rolling onto his stomach protectively to care.

“Dongju-“ Hwanwoong scolded, though it sounded like he was laughing. “We didn’t think you were actually going to do it-“

“Youngjo told us to bring him back in!” Dongju said, shrugging like his hands were tied. “I just-“ He leapt back when Seoho tried to grab his ankle. “Hey!”

Seoho sat up, rubbing his eyes with a low breath. “If you… ever do that again…”

“You’re the one who fell asleep outside for four hours and didn’t tell anyone,” Dongju huffed, crossing his arms. “Youngjo told us to come and make sure you weren’t dead.” 

“By crushing my intestines?” he demanded, glaring, though he was too tired to really feel annoyed. “ _Christ,_ Dongju-“ 

“Don’t be a baby,” Hwanwoong chuckled, offering him a hand down. “Youngjo just didn’t know where’d you gone.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” Seoho muttered, accepting the help up, watching Keonhee giggling behind his hand. “I was just taking a walk after I finished with the Heads.”

“Well, during your nap time, we finished our day out, Geonhak finished his questioning with the Heads, and Youngjo is stress-making lettuce wraps,” Keonhee told him, chuckling as they started walking back up the hill.

“Why is he stress-making food?” Seoho questioned, frowning.

Dongju shrugged, a little put off, but looking unconcerned. “He just said he was thinking about how everything might turn out.”

At the risk of sounding self-centered, Seoho couldn’t help but wonder if that was referring to him. Him and Geonhak.

Seoho tried to imagine… actually imagine- like a physical picture- of a Geonhak like the one he’d heard described over and over again. Someone who always sat alone, who work with people like business partners instead of friends, who always felt like there were eyes on the back of his head… who was avoided for his powers and his personality- neither of which he had control over…

Someone who just wanted to help people… but could find no one to help him.

And he tried to imagine that version of him standing next to this Geonhak. One who still didn’t talk as much, who still had that invasive power and that almost stiff personality… but was happy. Who had friends, who had built a trust, who smiled and shoved and was a general pain in the ass just because he could be, who was still as stoic as he once described but with breaks in that stoicism that almost made Seoho hesitate to use such a word to describe him.

Maybe Geonhak was still all those things… but he was them in moderation.

He had been alone… and now he wasn’t.

That change, more than any of the others, was the one Geonhak clung to hardest, Seoho now knew.

His nap hadn’t really fixed anything, but the presence of the others at least kept him distracted from falling back into a panic.

When they got back to the dorm, Youngjo was alone in the kitchen, setting everything up on the table. Seoho glanced behind them at the living room, but it was empty.

“Where’s Geonhak?” he questioned, sitting down slowly with the others.

“He ate and then went to sleep again,” Youngjo said, voice carefully lighthearted, even with the understanding glance he gave Seoho. “He said he’d probably sleep until tomorrow. He was pretty worn out after meeting with the Heads.”

Seoho wanted to roll his eyes in annoyance. As much as he was dedicated to the work they did, he didn’t know how the hell the Heads were considered viable to lead this kind of operation. There wasn’t a single one of them who wasn’t an asshole. 

“Did he reapply?” Keonhee asked, eyes hopeful, glancing between Youngjo and Seoho.

Youngjo’s small smile was a little tight, and Seoho didn’t miss the way he suddenly wasn’t looking at him.

“Uh, no,” he said, using such a tone that no one would get concerned. Unless, of course, they were Seoho. “He said he wanted to wait another couple of days. He was pretty tired.”

Seoho knew that wasn’t the reason.

He knew that there were things that weren’t lining up, and it took everything in his power not to let it sweep him away as they started eating, the others accepting Geonhak’s waiting without question.

Geonhak had said he would stay. Youngjo assured Seoho that there was no way Geonhak would ever leave him, specifically, again.

But Geonhak was putting off reapplying, he had an ‘exacerbation’ that was still apparently an issue, and it definitely involved Seoho in some way.

He ate, trying not to think about it, and letting himself enjoy just having some good food with his team, even if Youngjo did under-season everything (which he did not appreciate Seoho pointing out, especially when Keonhee and Hwanwoong immediately agreed in that overenthusiastic way meant to incite a wrath).

Youngjo, of course, didn’t smack them both.

But that was what Dongju was for, who threw a salt and pepper shaker at them both, telling them to season it themselves. 

Seoho was okay.

His mind was divided in half by a steel wall- separating everything else from anything that involved Geonhak- and he focused on the brighter side of it.

When he went to bed in the evening, Geonhak was dead asleep, snoring with his covers thrown off of him.

Seoho paused as he got changed, silently wondering if he’d had a nightmare in the time he was here alone. He finished getting dressed in sweatpants.

Carefully, Seoho went over, pulling the covers back up to his chest-

Geonhak’s eyes flew open, a sharp breath crashing through his lungs as he half-jerked away from Seoho before realizing who was above him.

Seoho jerked his hand back, taking a step away as Geonhak quickly relaxed from the scare.

“Sorry,” he whispered, chest twisting as Geonhak rubbed at his eyes, stepping further away, back to his bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m laying down.”

Seoho laid down, giving Geonhak no choice but to not have to talk to him.

Seoho stared at the wall, his own heart a little fast from the scare.

“Tomorrow,” he heard Geonhak murmur, making Seoho lift his head to stare across the dark room. Geonhak was staring at the ceiling, fixing the blankets over his chest. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

Seoho almost wanted to play dumb, but they were both too tired for that, and none of it was physical.

“When you’re ready,” He said quietly, laying his head back down.

Geonhak was quiet for a moment. “Tomorrow,” He repeated, like that was the end of it, the sound of him shifting around until he was comfortable following his silence.

Seoho didn’t respond, staring at the wall until he didn’t remember falling asleep.

Knowing that he would find out the truth at some point did actually very little to comfort him.

It sort of spoiled the idea of knowing the truth, when he also knew that whatever Geonhak was holding onto was distressing him to that degree, on top of everything else he was going through.

Geonhak seemed eager to get it off his chest, though, whatever horrible thing he thought would ruin them, despite the reassurances from even Youngjo that nothing could ever do that.

What wishful thinking had Geonhak suddenly lost?

~~~~~~~~

The red didn’t go away.

Geonhak kept looking for it, to see if he was just interpreting it wrong, but he couldn’t find that same shade in anyone else around the compound… except for Seoho that one time.

He was even beginning to wonder if he’d just imagined that spider-silk thin web he’d seen through Seoho…

It didn’t reappear on Seoho.

Geonhak felt like he was six years old again, his parents still alive, but his powers slightly less refined than they would be- random bursts of fire catching on his clothing as he did his everyday chores, jumping and patting it out, hoping that his mom wouldn’t notice and get worried because it really didn’t hurt.

Geonhak managed to ignore it pretty well, falling back into the familiarity that he knew when interacting with Seoho, and forgetting those weird blips on his radar.

But it was like he was six years old and catching fire randomly- in the cafeteria, walking around, during training, while they shoved each other around, before they fell asleep-

Geonhak kept seeing those little bursts of red from the corner of his eye, trying to pat them out before anyone could notice them, despite knowing no one else could see them. Neither Seoho nor the others seemed to see a change in Geonhak’s behavior, which was a _relief._

He didn’t know if he could explain it if he tried.

Geonhak’s interactions with love had been limited to… probably just among this team. Even through all his agencies he’d been too… most emotions didn’t warp past that almost-pink rosy shade of friendship.

He’d certainly never been exposed to anyone in love.

His parents had been, he knew. But while he could remember their faces, their voices, and a lot of moments with them… he couldn’t remember if this concerning shade of red had been present there. He’d been too young to properly categorize the colors, like he learned later on.

But… if Geonhak prided himself on nothing else, he was adaptive.

It took… a long time. He never clocked the exact moments, but it took way over a year to get used to the bursts of red that appeared intertwined with nearly every emotion he felt that was related to Seoho in some way.

Part of Geonhak was absolutely positive that some mistake must have been made, that he’d interpreted it wrong because… nothing was _different_. He kept waiting for him to feel… _something different_ than he always felt for Seoho. But…

But there was so abrupt appearance of warmth or pain or whatever the fuck it felt like to be in love with someone. Geonhak wouldn’t know, he’d never felt it before. And he certainly wasn’t about to ask someone.

Why wasn’t it… different?

That question remained unanswered as Geonhak, in the same way that the scars on his arm blended in as part of him, the same way that watery blue became just a part of Seoho… the red that intertwined itself among the shades and hues of his emotions… slowly just became a part of himself- ignorable, but constant and familiar.

Geonhak accepted that red as part of himself… but over the year of accepting that… he never saw another hint of crimson in Seoho.

Geonhak said it was because he wanted to figure it out, to sort out this weird emotion, to find out more information… those were his excuses, at least.

He never mentioned the red to anyone.

Mostly definitely never to Seoho.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho woke up and Geonhak was already gone.

The others were sitting down at breakfast, and before he’d even asked, Hwanwoong said that Geonhak had left a few minutes ago to go on a walk.

Seoho wasn’t awake enough to feel real concern, so he sat and ate quietly, rubbing sleep from his eyes. Dongju kept talking about a new sim that he and Youngjo wanted to go try, despite Youngjo repeatedly reminding him that they couldn’t until they were off their no-work orders, which the youngest seemed to think was more of a friendly suggestion.

Seoho was faced with two options as he washed his dish: stay in the dorm… or go for a walk himself.

He knew where Geonhak was. There was only one place he would be.

But, if Geonhak had very specifically gone on a walk before Seoho could wake up or even see him, then it was likely he wanted that privacy. Normally, Seoho wouldn’t give two shits about what he wanted, but…

Seoho had seen very few things affect Geonhak this much, and even fewer that made _Seoho_ this concerned.

The concerning part was Seoho’s involvement here. And, specifically, the fact that Geonhak seemed convinced it would scare him off. Somehow.

As if there could be something in the world that would top falling into literal Hell to go get him after thinking he was dead for half a year. Dragging his half dead body back to the surface, nearly costing all six of their lives.

What could possibly be worse than that? Honestly, Seoho was a little insulted at the thought that Geonhak still believed there was a line he couldn’t cross. Maybe before the Hellscape, Seoho could give him a pass.

But now? After everything?

Seoho was suddenly too jittery to think of staying in the dorm, turning around to let the others know he was going to head out-

Youngjo was already looking at him, smirking knowingly, though his eyes were sympathetic. “Have a nice walk,” he said with a sarcastic wave.

Seoho stared for a moment before huffing, rolling his eyes with a grin as he flicked his wet hands at the other, walking passed as Youngjo laugh. “I will,” he said petulantly, though he knew it probably… wouldn’t be that.

Hwanwoong waved goodbye to him from the couch as Seoho slipped on his boots, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he walked out.

He knew where Geonhak was. So he very purposefully walked towards the outdoor training field, in the opposite direction. They were full this early in the morning, but Seoho kept to the concrete path that circled the field, watching with disinterested eyes as people roamed doing this and that.

Despite coming here to clear his head, there wasn’t much going on up there. It was quiet, which was pretty good.

After he made two laps of the field, people started noticing him, nudging teammates and pointing him out. He moved on to the path that wound through the shallow part of the forest, before the trees got too dense. There were leaves covering the path, and he occupied himself with crunching them passively.

It was too cool in the shade of the trees, so he made his way out, the sun much higher than it had been when he’d gone in. He stared up at it for a moment, sighing quietly.

He walked towards the stream.

Geonhak would tell him to fuck off if he needed to.

He walked slowly, in no hurry, but he still found himself standing at the top of the hill too quickly, staring down the slope at the stream babbling away.

Geonhak sat on the edge, one leg drawn up and his arms wrapped around it as his chin rested on his knee. It was an entirely familiar scene, but the air around it was all wrong. Nothing before had ever made his shoulders that heavy.

For a moment, he almost turned around without stopping, suddenly sure that his presence would not help whatever cloud was clinging to Geonhak.

But… it was better to hear Geonhak tell him that himself.

Seoho started walking down the slope, but hadn’t made it more than a few steps before Geonhak was turning around- a mixture of startled, wondering who was coming, and the sort of acceptance that came with knowing there was only one person that it could be.

Seoho paused for a minute, waiting for some sort of signal to turn his ass around, but Geonhak turned back to the stream after a moment, an invitation.

Seoho hadn’t even made it to the bottom before Geonhak was standing slowly, hands shoving deep in his jacket pockets, hunching his shoulders. Seoho reached the bottom of the slope, about ten feet from Geonhak, and stopped.

“…You good?” he asked quietly, genuinely, watching Geonhak glance at him over his shoulder.

His expression was hard to read, something stricken but grateful, something familiar but tense. Like he was struggling to remind himself that he was safe here. 

But he wasn’t telling Seoho to leave.

“I think so?” Geonhak answered roughly after a pause, turning away from Seoho, head bowed. “I will be? I’m just…” He pulled a hand from his jacket, making a vague, circular motion at his temple with his hand.

Cluttered. Nervous. Scared. Overwhelmed.

“Yeah,” Seoho murmured without making him say it. He stared, eyes strained, trying to figure out what the best thing to do would be. He didn’t want to bring up the promise to talk, but he didn’t think discouraging Geonhak from saying anything would help.

Geonhak, however, had fallen still, humming to agree with Seoho’s bland response.

He stared at the stream like it might give him answers.

“I didn’t come to push you into telling me,” Seoho finally said when the silence stretched too long, area around his eyes tightening. “I was just coming to see if you wanted company.”

“I know.”

Seoho didn’t know what to say to that.

Geonhak took a slow breath, letting it out, his shoulders falling like he was forcibly shoving a weight off of him. Or maybe his shoulders just finally gave out under the weight. Seoho watched him carefully, braced for… any eventuality. Including a breakdown.

He didn’t know how to help Geonhak right now.

“You asked me before… what it all had to do with you,” Geonhak finally said, voice quiet but rough with some emotion he couldn’t name. “It… It _does_ have to do with you,” he admitted. “But not in any way that places blame or… or implicates you- None of it is your _fault-“_

“Geonhak.”

That made him look at Seoho, lifting his head and turning around, looking startled by the interruption, as if he’d forgotten Seoho was actually there.

Seoho simply leveled him with an unimpressed look that probably came out gentler than he intended, but that was okay.

“I’m going to tell you this again,” he said slowly, clearly as Geonhak finally faced him fully. “I have… literally jumped into Hell for you.” Geonhak’s lip twitched, but it wasn’t amused. “There is literally nothing you could say… _Literally_ nothing. I’ve run the numbers, it literally doesn’t _exist-_ “

“I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Seoho choked off into silence as Geonhak stood there, expression that of a man who knew he was about to decked and was waiting for the blow.

Seoho wasn’t quite sure what particular dance his heart was doing, nor the exact gymnastic routine his stomach was partaking in… but he suddenly felt sick. Not like regret or fear or anything like that-

The kind of sick that came with being so wholly blindsided by something, you were flipping through the air, unsure which way was down, earth spinning too fast as he slammed into the ground, head still racing.

He felt sick because he knew he needed to _say something_ but nothing was _coming out_ -

Not ‘I like you.’ Not ‘I have a crush on you.’ Not ‘I love you.’

_‘I’ve been in love with you for years.’_

Seoho’s expression was one of the man who was suddenly getting decked instead of Geonhak, but he hadn’t been able to brace for it.

A collateral in the bar fight he’d walked into.

His throat was physically closed up, his mouth open in words that were paralyzed in his chest. Geonhak was just standing there.

He was just standing there.

His fists were clenched at his sides, still waiting for a blow, his expression a mixture of regret, fear, and an apology painted across pained eyes and pale skin. His hands were shaking.

Seoho needed to get his shit together now.

_For years-_

_In Love-_

That was… a weird thing to try and fit into Seoho’s perspective of things… Years of something they’d both known was more than friendship, but… that had never occurred to Seoho-

_For years?_

How did you even like someone for that long, much less someone like Seoho? And that wasn’t even meant to be self-deprecating, he was just shocked that someone would hold onto someone else that long, when Seoho hadn’t ever known, much less given him something in return-

Did that make Seoho the asshole? Should he have noticed?

He’d spent a lot of his time here watching and cataloguing Geonhak- _How the fuck had he_ _never noticed-_

Geonhak’s lips were slowly thinning, a growing discomfort in his eyes, as if he was about to beg Seoho to say something-

Oh, shit, Seoho was still just _fucking standing there-_

“How…” His voice came out raspy and weak, like he was speaking through a chest cold. Geonhak winced, like he suddenly wanted Seoho to shut up. “How long… is ‘years’?”

Yeah, sure, that was the most important question he should be asking right now.

Geonhak bit the inside of his chest, expression tensing, still expecting some altercation. “I… I first noticed it… about four years ago. Three, before I left.”

Three years. So… after only two years of them knowing each other… And Geonhak had…

_Why Seoho?_

But… Seoho knew that his reactions were only stressing Geonhak out further, his pale skin and terrified eyes making Seoho want to just cover his mouth so he couldn’t go on. But, if Geonhak was this stressed out over this, Seoho didn’t want to see what his ‘exacerbation’ was.

Honestly… Seoho was getting a little scared, too.

He took a deep breath, one that made him tilt his head back, letting it out as he lowered it, forcing his heart to slow down, his blood to calm down, his stomach to halt. He needed to keep it together for now.

This wasn’t about him. Geonhak didn’t need his freak out. He needed to feel safe enough to speak.

“Okay,” he breathed out slowly, opening his eyes, calmer (at least, mostly). He faced Geonhak with his head held up firmly, meeting his eyes. “Go on.”

Geonhak was entirely still for a moment, like his brain had just stuttered.

“… What?” he questioned, blinking in confusion as the trees grew louder with a breeze blowing through. 

Seoho gestured for him to go on, carefully controlling his expression to take that weight off of him. This wasn’t… exactly a comfortable time for either of them. But Geonhak clearly needed to get it off his chest.

It wasn’t about Seoho, right now.

“Continue,” he prompted gently.

Geonhak blinked again, mouth opening and closing once. “Continue… what?” he asked, shaking his head, like he was the one confused.

Seoho frowned ever so slightly, gesturing again for him to go on. “Continue… talking,” he said obviously. “I figure this was important for me to know… so that you can explain your ‘exacerbation.” He nodded encouragingly. “I’m listening. Tell me the rest.”

Geonhak stared at him for a full ten seconds.

Seoho counted, holding his breath.

“That… That’s the rest,” Geonhak whispered, looking winded and bewildered, staring at Seoho with slightly wide eyes, almost panicked. “That’s… the exacerbation I was talking about.”

It was Seoho’s turn to blink, trying to fit those pieces together.

That… was it?

“That?” Seoho demanded, gesturing between them sharply, frowning. “That- The thing you’ve been talking about telling me? The thing that exacerbated you leaving? The thing that you said would be the thing to break something between us?”

Geonhak didn’t look like he was breathing.

Seoho was breathing too much, his blood suddenly roaring.

“The thing you looked me in my eyes about and said it would make me want you gone, that it would somehow change everything between us-“

Geonhak winced, looking guilty-

“The thing you think can top _jumping into the Hellscape after you-“_

Seoho’s mouth was agape, eyes wide.

“Is the fact that you’ve been _in love with me_ for four years? That’s the end of it? That’s the whole thing?” he demanded, gesturing wildly, his hands shaking slightly with adrenaline.

The sunlight was warm, the only sound being the trees rustling in the distance.

Geonhak was staring at Seoho like he wasn’t entirely understanding him. He somehow still looked confused, brow twitching as he shook his head slowly. “That… That’s the whole thing,” he whispered hoarsely.

That was it?

“H-How-“ Seoho broke off, staring at Geonhak like he was fucking insane because _he was._ “ _How_ does that possibly make sense?”

Oh, he was yelling. He hadn’t meant to do that. But, honestly, Geonhak seemed better equipped to handle the yelling than anything else.

“I- I don’t know,” he said helplessly, showing his hands. “I only noticed randomly, and nothing ever changed- I don’t know why it happened, but-“

“No!” Seoho yelled, unable to stop the hand that came and slapped over his eyes frustratedly. “I’m not asking how the hell you fell in love with me, Geonhak,” he snapped, staring at him stiffly. “I mean- How the hell does it make sense that you think _that_ would be a _breaking point_ for us?”

Geonhak blinked, like Seoho had just slapped him, but not in the way he’d been bracing himself for.

He looked so utterly confused…

Seoho hadn’t realized he’d taken a swing until Geonhak was dodging the smack to his head, stumbling back a step with shocked eyes-

“Are you _insane_?” Seoho demanded, throwing his hands up helplessly, not going for a second swing, though he sort of wanted to.

It felt like being back in the Hellscape again, a reflexive instinct that Seoho beat the stupid out of Geonhak.

But this Geonhak wasn’t dying, so he was ten times as likely to hit him now.

“Why?” he demanded, throwing his hands up again, staring at Geonhak, unable to even start to comprehend that. “Give me _one reason_ that something like that would be something that would make one of us walk away?”

Geonhak didn’t flinch. He looked like he didn’t know where Seoho could be confused.

“I lied to you,” Geonhak said weakly. “I hid it from you. I was still hanging around you, but I never said anything, I never told you-“

He stopped, and Seoho realized that the two of them were two trains running on the same track, but that somehow kept missing each other.

“That’s not-“ Seoho huffed, clenching his jaw shut.

Geonhak didn’t understand how this couldn’t be something earth shattering. Seoho couldn’t understanding how this was a big deal, outside of being a surprise since Seoho had never considered it.

Somehow… the two of them were two halves of a whole idiot.

Well. Geonhak was probably about 3/5 of that idiot.

“Okay,” Seoho said, calming himself with a harsh breath, waving his hands to wipe the slate clean. “Let’s get this established first: this is not something horrific, Geonhak,” he said, equal parts gentle and sharp. He stared at him pointedly. “This is not something will send me running, nor does it make me hate you… and in fact, I feel largely unaffected despite that bombshell.”

Seoho was shockingly calm about this, given how not calm he’s been about several other topics.

Geonhak swallowed.

“Seriously,” Seoho said, laughing breathlessly, “I was seriously trying to figure out who you killed or what you’d lied about… but this?” He gestured between them. “That’s nothing, Geonhak. That’s like… mildly confusing, at best, since you somehow fell in love with _me_ of all people, and that you managed to hold onto it for that long.”

Geonhak’s jaw worked stiffly. “There’s not exactly a slew of people I could have done it with,” he muttered, trying for lighthearted, but it came out flat.

Seoho managed to swallow around the sudden lump in his throat. “Yeah, I guess the other option would be just… to _not_ do that.”

Geonhak stared at him for another moment, clearly gathering energy to continue. “You’re seriously… just accepting this?”

Seoho turned it over in his head for a moment, considering it, even though his brain was prioritizing things, and Geonhak being in love with him was actually… surprisingly low on that list.

“Geonhak…. We have both gone through too much shit the past year for this to be a breaking point for me.” He grinned weakly.

Geonhak stared, lips parted quietly.

“I’m not saying I understand it,” He said, chuckling weakly. “But like I said… this is really far down on a list of things freaking me out.”

“But I lied-“

“Not telling me you’re in love with me isn’t lying, Geonhak,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’re not obligated to tell me that. Those are _your_ feelings.” 

“But they involved you,” he fought, shaking his head. “I was just hanging around you, having those feelings, and I never told you-“

“Maybe some people might care, but it really doesn’t matter to me, personally-“

Seoho’s stomach suddenly dropped as it finally clicked in his head.

“That’s why you left?” he murmured, chest clenching. “Because you didn’t want to tell me?”

“That’s not the _only_ reason I left,” Geonhak said firmly, eyes hardening for a brief moment of conviction. “I told you, it was just something that… exacerbated it.”

Seoho was getting a little tired of that word, but he nodded slowly.

“I knew I was going to leave,” he murmured, glancing away. “It just… also helped convince me to do it… because I felt guilty about never telling you. And… And I felt like it would be even worse to suddenly tell you after so long.”

He glared at the stream.

“I was scared… of what you’d say if I’d ever told you. If you knew that I hid it from you.” 

Because somehow… in Geonhak’s head, telling him about it was the thing that would break the camel’s back. That was his worst-case scenario.

Seoho would have smacked him again, if not for the fact he tried to imagine carrying that secret for years. While faced with someone like _Seoho-_

_“And I promise you that if you did… you would never, in your entire life, doubt everything you are to him.”_

_“I’m telling you, you would never doubt that you mean more than the world and everything else to Geonhak. And even he couldn’t find a way to tell you that straight out. So I’m telling you.”_

“Holy shit,” Seoho breathed, eyes widening. “Did _Youngjo_ know?”

Geonhak suddenly looked like Seoho had drawn a knife on him. “I- How did- Did he talk to you?” he demanded, looking panicked.

“He cornered me yesterday and started talking weirdly about the fact that you and I deserved each other, and he brought up that he knew you before you’d met me and that you were different back then, and if I’d known you back then, I’d understand what I meant to you now.”

Holy shit.

Pieces clicked into place. Seoho had thought the picture was complete, but it was only a corner piece he was staring at.

Geonhak’s expression flickered between annoyance at Youngjo and horror at what had been told.

“He… _I_ didn’t tell him,” Geonhak assured him, mouth twisting. “But… Youngjo knows everything about everyone before they know it themselves.” A flicker of warm exasperation passed across his eyes. “A few months after I noticed… he approached me about it. He asked if I… liked you.”

Of course, Youngjo would notice.

“He said he thought we were going to… get together,” he said carefully, like it was a dangerous phrase, “a lot sooner than that, and he wasn’t… entirely happy when I said I didn’t plan on telling you.”

“Were you really that scared?” Seoho questioned gently, brows pulling down. “To tell me?”

Geonhak chewed his cheek, visibly searching for words. “I was most uncertain because… well, I can read emotions,” he said carefully, but going on, like this wasn’t the whole reason even though to Seoho, that suddenly made sense. “And I’d never seen the color show up on you… except once.”

Seoho blinked.

“Before I ever saw it on myself.”

Seoho balked. “I… You saw that on _me_? Like, that I was in love with you?”

Geonhak looked a little stricken, and Seoho schooled his expression.

He took a slow breath. “I saw it on you first, actually… a few months before I saw it on me,” he explained. “But it was… so faint on you. It was light, almost not the same shade… and it came and went in just a second. But then it suddenly showed up on me, and I… panicked a little because I’d never thought of that before, and I wasn’t sure what to do because I’d seen it on you once, but it never showed up after that.”

A different shade…

Showing up again in Geonhak…

Seeing it once before-

“Holy _shit_ ,” Seoho breathed, eyes wide, slightly horrified. “ _That’s_ the color you were talking about.” He pointed shakily at the stream. “The- The time I found you down here, you were being weird about it- An emotion that freaked you out, but you’d only seen it once before-“

Geonhak’s eyes widened in turn, gently surprised. “You remember that?”

To Seoho, that seemed obvious, but he nodded. “I kept waiting for you to bring it up again… but you never did.”

But that person… was Seoho.

“You lied,” Seoho suddenly said flatly. “You said I wasn’t the cause of the emotion, back then.”

“What was I supposed to say?” Geonhak demanded, laughing breathlessly, a little helpless. “If I said that you were… there was no way I could have explained that without telling you.”

He released another breath, some more tension leaving his shoulders as he realized this was going better than he’d ever anticipated, even if he was still confused.

“It wasn’t until I was in the Hellscape… that I realized how fucking stupid I had been,” he chuckled, a little self-deprecating, but mostly just… tired.

Seoho’s heart lurched.

Geonhak stared at the grass, eyes distant, mouth tight, fists clenched loosely. “I… had convinced myself for years that it wasn’t worth the risk to tell you… and that it was wrong of me to hang around you if I wasn’t going to tell you.” He laughed again, weak and breathy. “And then I was hanging from a cell wall for months, knowing that you were the only person who would ever get me out of there….”

His eyes were suddenly misty.

“And I realized how fucking stupid I had been. To hide it from you, to leave, to never contact you again about it… I wanted to hit myself for being so fucking stupid to be so scared, and I was 90% sure I was going to die down there-“

Seoho’s lips thinned, heart slowly constricting in his chest.

_“There’s… a lot of reasons to be scared. To put something off. And when you look back… it seems so stupid of you to have hesitated.”_

“I forgot about it… until I told you that I was staying… and I realized I still hadn’t told you any of this. And I had just as many issues with that as I did in the beginning.” Geonhak winced. “That’s why I haven’t reapplied officially yet. Because… I wanted to tell you… and give you a chance to-“ He gestured to Seoho weirdly. “Well. A chance to tell me to fuck off, if that’s what you wanted.”

“It’s not,” Seoho said, surprising even himself with that vehemency.

The wind was gentle and cool.

Geonhak laughed, a little lighter, though still choked up. “Yeah, I got that now… even I don’t understand it.”

“So…” Seoho frowned, tongue a little clumsy. “You… still do?” he ventured carefully, not really sure the best way to ask this.

Geonhak glanced down at his arm, lips twitching sadly. “Uh. Yeah.”

Okay. So… Geonhak was currently still in love with Seoho.

Like. _Right now._

Seoho had never thought about it before.

“Can…” He stared at his own hand, wondering what Geonhak was seeing now. “Can I have some time to think about it?”

Geonhak blinked, taken aback, before immediately shaking his head. “This- That wasn’t why I told you-“

“Well, I mean, I’m not about to make things weird, but… I want to think it over,” Seoho said firmly. “It’s not nearly as earth shattering, to me, like you made it seem. But… it clearly meant a lot to you. And I want to give it some thought.”

Geonhak stared at him, as if slapped. “You don’t… have to. I’m not trying to guilt trip-“

“Bold of you to assume you could ever force me to do something I didn’t want to,” he huffed, smirking and crossing his arms, though his chest was tight. “But just… give me a couple of days to get some shit in order. And I’ll talk to you again about it.” 

Geonhak swallowed, looking stricken. “Okay,” he croaked quietly.

Seoho’s heart wrenched slightly at the fact that he thought loving Seoho was something horrific and offensive.

“Geonhak,” He said firmly, locking eyes with him. “This isn’t weird,” he said, shaking his head sternly. “This isn’t going to make things weird. I’m not weirded out by any of this. I just don’t have the mental capacity to figure my shit out at once.”

“Yeah,” Geonhak said quickly, nodding. “Yeah, no, that’s… That’s honestly not even on the list of reactions I was expecting from this.”

He looked dazed.

Seoho rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because you’re a fucking dumbass.”

Geonhak chuckled. It was lighter this time. “Yeah. I am.”

Seoho huffed, turning away and staring back up the hill, a hundred memories overlapping into once, clear picture of them.

“You’re lucky I’m already aware of how much you mean to me,” he muttered, feeling a foreign drop in his stomach that certainly did not come from him.

When he glanced back… Geonhak’s eyes were shining.

Seoho’s lips twisted gently. “Come on, dumbass. Let’s go take a nap or something.”

It wasn’t weird.

But Geonhak’s presence beside him was finally heavy enough for Seoho to feel like he could walk straight.

For a world that had been flipped on its head… Geonhak had flipped it again, right side up.

Love… was the least confusing emotion passing between the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It finally happened!!!!!!! >w<  
> The progress!!!!! ^u^  
> I had so much fun with this, thank you all for reading! It really means the world!!!  
> The next chapter may be delayed a bit because of Christmas, but I’ll try to work on it as much as possible!! Thank you for your patience, lovelies~ 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! Happy holidays for everyone celebrating!  
> Stay safe!!  
> -SS


	7. I Trust To Burn With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for the break between chapters, I swear I didn’t mean for it to take this long ㅠㅠ   
> But I hope you enjoy this final chapter! It’s a bit shorter and I edited it super quick, so please forgive any mistakes lol~
> 
> But please enjoy! I had so much fun with this fic and all the love it’s gotten has absolutely killed me! You’re all so amazing! Thank you!!! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think of this final  
> Chapter! And have a safe new year!!   
> -SS

It was shockingly easy to fall into a pattern with the knowledge Seoho had gained.

It was shockingly similar to live in a world that held a friendship that transcended words and a world where Geonhak was in love with him.

Shockingly, there wasn’t a real change in the way Seoho operated, especially when, two days later, their no-work orders were lifted, though they were still being held off of missions and required training.

With that lift, they had another thing to occupy their time with, though sometimes they still chose to utilize the fact that they practically had unlimited free time for now.

Seoho moved through two days in a bit of a haze, still talking and smiling and walking with Geonhak and the others, but he could see Geonhak looking at him more often, glances out of the corner of his eye, flickers of his eyes like he was checking Seoho’s position or countenance.

Unfortunately, during that haze, there wasn’t really any progress made on having any sort of answer or rebuttal for what he’d learned from Geonhak.

It wasn’t Seoho _fault,_ though. He was _trying._

It was just hard because it was so easy to just accept that. Easier than even Seoho could have ever predicted.

It was so easy to just look and speak and see Geonhak like he always had because… well, Seoho had been knowing and living with and seeing this Geonhak that was in love with him longer than he’d known one that wasn’t.

It wasn’t until he slipped away early one morning before breakfast (not because he was avoiding a conversation, but because he knew that Hwanwoong wouldn’t stop bothering him to try this one sim that Keonhee was too afraid to do because it had spiders) that Seoho finally had enough physical and mental stimulus to understand what he needed to do.

Running laps in the training room, he finally faced the questions he needed answered.

Was it strange, uncomfortable, or unwanted that Geonhak was in love with him and had been for years? No. It was maybe strange that he would pick _Seoho,_ but Geonhak had already had a track record for picking Seoho, so that was expected.

Did the fact that Geonhak loved him change anything?

Hm.

Well, in a perfect world, the answer was no. Seoho and Geonhak would continue on as they always had, no one would be hurt or have regrets or lose face. Nothing would change, they would fall back into their old patterns, and it would be fine.

But this wasn’t a perfect world.

And Seoho wasn’t selfish enough to try and enforce a perfect world’s outcome into this stupidly flawed and complicated one.

So: did this change anything? Yes, probably.

What did it change? This was what Seoho tried to contemplate as he ran laps around the sim room, not even bothering to run a sim. He wasn’t looking for a distraction, just something to keep him from feeling jittery and trapped while the delved into his head.

What _could_ it change? One of two things: Either Seoho accepted those feelings or he didn’t. Either he gave that a chance or he didn’t.

That part was actually shockingly easy to decide, as well. Now…

The only remaining question that really mattered: Did Seoho accept those feelings?

Seoho had clearly never dated people before. He’d never even had friends before Geonhak.

Geonhak had been his first, second, third, and only for so many parts of Seoho’s life. Everything from friendships, trust, secrets, pasts, emotions, feelings, changes….

There was literally no part of Seoho’s life that Geonhak had not touched in some way that had changed it for the better.

Seoho never wanted to imagine a life where he’d spent the last five years as miserable as he had the last decade and more.

Had Seoho ever considered Geonhak in that light? ‘No’….Was the easy answer.

But the more Seoho thought about it…

Had Seoho ever thought about kissing, dating, or feeling romantically about Geonhak? No. That was the easy part.

Had Seoho thought about and considered Geonhak in ways that left even most romantic relationship vapid and wanting?

Yes… he was beginning to realize.

What was romance and love if not just an extreme trust and agreement for protection? Seoho had never pegged himself to be philosophical (obvious from the fact that he was only thinking about this after needing an answer for Geonhak), but once he started thinking about it…

Geonhak and he trusted each other to a fault.

They were both clearly willing to do nearly unthinkable things without hesitation for the other. They had been friends and partners and more for six years now, and like always… both of them knew each other so intimately and totally… that there were no surprises left for them.

At least, outside of the whole being in love for years thing.

They protected and comforted and defended and laughed and lived and breathed and stood together for everything, every moment of the last six years, even when they’d been miles apart and unsure of life and death.

Seoho couldn’t even think of a real relationship where he’d seen all those things.

So… technically, the only difference between the two of them and a regular couple was the lack of physical aspect.

However, when it came to a relationship, there _was_ potential- thought not a _need-_ for that physical part to be an aspect. So, Seoho needed to consider it just in case.

The extent of his physical relationship with Geonhak consisted of shoving, casual touch, embraces, and most recently, sharing a bed where their positions had not been at a distance.

None of those progressions had ever felt wrong or stiff or unnatural between the two of them. Geonhak wasn’t necessarily a super tactile person by nature, aside from most casual touches, but none of those touches ever felt forced.

Now, in the instance that agreeing to these feelings brought about the next steps: kissing, more intimate or exclusive touches, and potentially things beyond that.

Was any of that… weird or off-putting or deal-breaking or unwelcome?

Seoho didn’t exactly have a set of references to pull from, and the concept of all those things were so foreign in every sense, he almost couldn’t picture anything but a weird blob in the general shape of the two of them.

Those steps would not likely happen immediately, or maybe anytime soon. Both he and Geonhak were… working through some stuff, outside of all this.

He couldn’t imagine kissing Geonhak, mostly because he didn’t have any references to pull knowledge from, so then again, Seoho couldn’t imagine kissing _anyone._

But… if it had to be someone?

In the same way Geonhak had known, inherently, that if he would escape, it would have to be Seoho because no one else was stupid enough… no one else cared enough…

In that same way… Seoho knew, inherently, that if he ever did kiss someone or move passed anything strictly platonic that ventured into more intimate, vulnerable, careful territory… it would have to be Geonhak.

No one else had earned that level of trust the way he had, the number of times he had, in the infallible, ineffable, and unmovable way he had.

Even after leaving, he’d still come back.

And, according to Youngjo, who apparently knew what he was talking about… Geonhak would never leave him again.

Despite his pessimistic fears… Seoho trusted Geonhak more than anyone else to always come back, to always have his back, to always be safe… to be vulnerable around. To be read by and picked apart… because he knew, from experience, that no matter what Geonhak found… he would never bring harm to whatever tender, aching wound he’d uncovered.

Geonhak had earned that trust, and Geonhak alone.

So… had Seoho ever consciously thought about Geonhak in that way? No.

But is it possible that the two of them had been feeling two entirely different forms of love that summed up to be the same, even if they had been entirely different in every way?

It was… entirely possible.

Seoho had heard the poems and the prose and the yearning lines about love and all the hundreds and millions of ways people described it. One part of love was shared between all of them: all-encompassing. Encasing. Surrounding. Overwhelming.

One thing everyone agreed on: love permeated every part of everything and wrapped itself around every piece of you until everything you did and thought and breathed… was stained and tinted and colored by it.

Maybe Seoho had never had a label for it, and maybe it hadn’t been Love because Geonhak had never seen it on him but once…

But Seoho knew that there was something inside of him that turned towards Geonhak like a sunflower, that kept him in sight, that was a constant blip on his radar… There was a part of him that was always aware of Geonhak… a part that wanted and needed to know he was okay.

There was a helium balloon in his lungs, a breathlessness in his chest, an airy breeze through his stomach, a burst of sunlight in his blood… and these things were a constant, overwhelming experience anytime Geonhak was in his vicinity.

He’d labeled it trust.

Geonhak labeled it love.

Inherently… weren’t the two things the same? A trust that colored and permeated and clung to every part of you, knowing you wouldn’t be hurt so long as the other person breathed?

Seoho had trusted more than his physical safety to Geonhak since the beginning.

And Seoho had the long list of colors, emotions, and categories that he hadn’t even been aware of until Geonhak had given them to him to prove it.

Geonhak, who sat by him and never left him alone since.

Geonhak, who was such a dumbass and a pain in the ass and stupidly moral.

Geonhak… who Seoho had been trusting blindly at his most vulnerable for as long as he chose to remember… and whom Seoho would never think to scorn or distrust, regardless of what he’d done.

Even leaving hadn’t changed that.

Even being afraid he might leave again.

Even finding out he’d been oblivious this entire time… Even finding out that Geonhak had somehow been unlucky enough to fall in love with _him_ , and _stayed in love_ for this long.

In short: Geonhak was an idiot.

But that had never stopped Seoho from throwing himself off a cliff first and asking questions later, at Geonhak’s barest command. Because he trusted… that there was always going to something to catch him if things went wrong.

So…

Had Seoho been in love with Geonhak before? In so many words, no.

Did Seoho realize how close to that he’d been without ever having a word for it, and understand the weight those two different emotions carried in their similarities? After hours in the training room, running himself into the ground… Yes.

So, the only questioned that really mattered: Did Seoho accept those feelings?

Yes.

Did he return them? Right now, it was possible. In the future? Entirely likely.

Physical aspects of that relationship? They would have to cross each of those bridges when they got there because they were easy enough to discuss after the main issue was resolved.

Did Seoho love Geonhak? In the exact same way Geonhak did? No, not yet. Was it possible?

Absolutely.

Because Seoho may have dragged Geonhak’s ass out of hell, but it was Geonhak who dragged Seoho out of a hell of his own making, first. Geonhak was the first to stand his guard, even against Seoho himself, for the sake of Seoho.

Seoho may have dragged Geonhak’s ass out of hell… but it was Geonhak who helped Seoho become strong enough to do it.

Did Seoho have his answer? He was pretty sure he always had the answer. But yes.

In the end… it wasn’t that hard. It was just… a different perspective, which was something Seoho, in all his myopic failings, was very bad at having.

Hence, why Geonhak was needed.

So, Seoho had his answer.

Twenty minutes after his peaceful resolution, Seoho collapsed onto the floor, sweating and panting into the air as his recovered-but-still-pitifully-weakened legs begged for a break from running.

He stared up at the roof… and he marveled at the fact his racing heart was only a product of exercise.

You’d think… there would be earth shattering involved when finding out your most trusted partner, friend, and more had been in love with you for four years and had to leave because his stupid morals told him he couldn’t stick around if he wasn’t going to confess…

Stupid Geonhak and his stupid morals.

Fucking asshole.

But Seoho stared up at the ceiling, breathing heavily but… with his mind quieter than it had been… since Geonhak had left. Not peaceful. Not calm. But… there was an acceptance, an allowance…. An acknowledgement of reality that Seoho had been so horrifically rejecting.

Seoho stared up at the ceiling calmly, his breathing slowly returning to normal.

Geonhak had been in love with him for years.

Okay.

Seoho closed his eyes and thought back to years of trust and comfort. All the familiarity and shoving and laughter that he’d been convinced that he’d never been allowed to have.

Geonhak had slowly shown Seoho that he not only was allowed to have that… he _deserved_ that.

He had a _right_ to that. To safety, to family, to humanity…

Seoho had been 12 years old when his illusion of a right to humanity was shattered.

And he had spent the past five being reminded and taught and reminded again that… that even if the rest of the world refused to give him that… there were people who would. He’d spent five years being reminded of something his mother had believed until the day she died.

He was not a monster.

He was not part of a Hellscape.

And even if he _had_ been both of those things… he was still deserved of the same humanity as everyone else.

Geonhak had held the same exact opinions and beliefs as Seoho’s mother… but he’d been through too much in his own life to go about expressing those in the same way she had. He didn’t have her ignorance.

Seoho’s mother could either do nothing or had chosen to do nothing, believing that Seoho was her son, that others would soon realize who he was really was.

Geonhak believed that Seoho was worthy of everything and more, but Geonhak was prepared to fight for and against Seoho to convince the world of that, knowing that it was a fruitless endeavor, but staying… staying at Seoho’s side, regardless.

Seoho opened his eyes.

Geonhak had slowly torn open Seoho’s walls, but he hadn’t stepped a foot inside until Seoho had invited him.

Geonhak had created a space in Seoho’s life that was impossible to fill in or destroy, regardless of where he went or what he did. And while Seoho would have leapt into the hellscape or missed anyone else on his team…

Everyone on this team knew it was different.

Even Seoho had known it was different. But he’d tried to fight that, as if that attachment to Geonhak had been something to shy away from, was something he was embarrassed about… He hadn’t been embarrassed.

But… Seoho had always been afraid of being alone again, even if couldn’t admit it. Admitting attachment meant admitting that it hurt when he left.

Admitting it hurt when he left… meant that the hurt was never going to stop because he was never coming back. And Seoho was the fool for hurting because if he left, that meant it wasn’t hurting him.

But it did hurt him.

And he did come back.

Seoho’s eyes stung, but he blinked it away slowly.

He came back…

Was Seoho obligated to try and love Geonhak back? No.

Did he anyway?

Seoho thought back to a million different memories that he’d never thought would ever be as bright as they were, colored in those yellows and blues that Geonhak always described with a warmth in his eyes Seoho had only ever seen from him? 

Yeah.

Yeah, he did.

There was the faint hiss of air as the door of the practice room opened.

“Must have been some run…”

Seoho tilted his head ever so slightly, craning his head to look at Geonhak upside down standing just inside the door, waiting for a rejection with a quiet, questioning quirk of his lips

Seoho simply raised his own questioning brow in return.

Geonhak gestured to him vaguely. “You look comfortable.”

Seoho snorted, rolling his eyes quietly as he fell back against the floor, eyes back at the ceiling.

It wasn’t being tired that stilled his tongue or softened his jaw. It was something else.

“I am,” he admitted quietly, letting his arms unfurl and hit the ground.

He heard Geonhak take several steps forward, though most of the room still separated them. “You went for a run?” he questioned, glancing around the room.

Seoho nodded, tilting his head back once more and seeing the traces of sweat still clinging to the edges of Geonhak’s temple and hairline, despite probably having gotten changed back into his jacket.

“You?” he asked, gesturing to his own hairline as Geonhak passed a brief hand through the sweat, apparently not realizing there was any clinging there.

He stared at the dampness of his hand for a moment before a dismissive half-smile appeared on his lips. “I was just… testing out my powers again.” He shrugged as Seoho frowned. “Just… getting used to being able to use them without.... you know-“ He gestured to his midsection vaguely, a slight tension appearing at the corner of his mouth.

Seoho sat up slowly, turning and folding his legs on the ground as he frowned up at Geonhak. “Are you… having trouble with that?”

He shook his head swiftly. “No, no, it’s not trouble or anything like that-“

He cut himself off when Seoho’s eyes flickered across him, searching for any sign of… issues. Seoho wasn’t sure what issue he might find, but-

Geonhak shoved his hands deep into his jacket pockets, flicking his hair out of his face. There was resignation in his eyes.

“I’m just… reacclimating my body to realizing that its not going to… you know, be excruciatingly painful every time I use my powers,” he murmured calmly, nonchalant and off-handed. “It’s different with the empathy,” he said before Seoho could open his mouth. “That one never really was an issue down there because of the dark elves.”

Seoho saw the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly, his fists pushing just that much deeper into his pockets, despite his expression not shifting.

“But… it makes me a little nervous to use my flames again,” he muttered, shrugging briefly. “Which is _stupid_ , yeah, because-“

“It’s not.”

Seoho didn’t remembering standing, but suddenly he was eye level with Geonhak, not glaring, but his expression was definitely hard enough to have Geonhak staring at him with sightly widened eyes.

“You were down there for six months, Geonhak,” he said, voice sharpened despite the low volume, his heart tugging oddly. “Don’t fucking try and say that shit again.”

Geonhak blinked slowly, Seoho holding his little glare, but then the shock faded into a small, familiar smile with that familiar warmth hazing at the corner of his eyes.

“Has anyone ever told you that your tact sucks?” he murmured, an inaudible laugh at the edge of his words.

Seoho could have brought the topic of conversation back around. But his lips thinned as he stared at a familiar smile, familiar warmth, familiar emotions tugging at his stomach and chest… all of it unchanged by time and confession.

“Then why did you fall in love with me?” he asked, bordering on petulant, definitely edging towards vulnerable and insecure, but able to remain solidly breathless.

Geonhak’s expression stuttered so violently, Seoho almost reached out to catch him- almost shutting down completely, but catching himself like that wasn’t what he wanted to show. He stared at Seoho like he’d suddenly been punched in the stomach, like he was struggling to catch his breath, like he was being shouted at in some foreign language he was desperate to translate.

Seoho was just as stupidly helpless, just staring at Geonhak like a useless lifeguard watching a drowning victim- hands held out numbly.

Then Geonhak’s mouth closed, and Seoho was on the verge of blurting an apology, but Geonhak wet his lips, shaking out his shoulders, eyes hardening ever so slightly with determination.

“Are you asking for real… or not?” he questioned seriously, offering the choice to Seoho because he was good at stuff like that.

Seoho had all his reasons already lined up, all his insecurities and reasons and four years worth of fears he hadn’t even realized were clinging to his coattails.

The only piece he didn’t have… was Geonhak. And why he was still here when Seoho had merely shown a flash and nothing else.

He didn’t know what had kept Geonhak around.

“For real, I guess,” he said, more like a whisper, knowing that every ounce of uncertainty and shifting discomfort was on display for Geonhak… but that was okay.

Geonhak had seen him at his worst and worse.

Seoho didn’t know why he would try to hide anything when Geonhak had already seen it all.

That entire puzzle was thrown into disarray, though… when Geonhak smiled weakly, shrugging gently, and only responded with a helpless, “Beats me.”

Seoho stared at him, blinking slowly.

Geonhak merely shrugged again, chuckling like it was no big deal, but with just enough unsteadiness there for Seoho to see the slight mania there, his own uncertainty shining through, not in colors but in the tensions and signs that Seoho had learned to read like his own color coded language.

“I’ve tried to figure it out,” Geonhak murmured, voice a little unsteady. “Long before I ever told you. And… I never really got an answer.”

Well.

That wasn’t fair.

But Seoho held his tongue, watching Geonhak watch him and chew the inside of his mouth slowly, like slowly analyzing Seoho for every word he was gathering.

“You felt safe around me,” Geonhak finally said, gentle enough for Seoho to feel it like a punch to his chest.

Safe.

Seoho stared at Geonhak’s eyes that had seen every part of him and were still kind. At someone who had come closer than Seoho had ever let another person.

Yeah. Safe.

“I could read that,” Geonhak confessed quietly, dropping his eyes to stare somewhere to Seoho’s left. “That white I told you about?” He gestured to Seoho’s entirety. “It’s… hard to describe exactly what that feels like, Seoho… when you see that in someone.”

It was hard to describe exactly what that felt like, too. It had been hard enough for Seoho to realize that the tug in his gut every time Geonhak moved or he shifted towards him… was that white color that Geonhak told him about.

Trust. Safety.

Geonhak stared at him, like he was seeing him for the first time, like he was staring at him through a piece of sparkling glass, like Seoho was standing at a distance close enough for him to touch.

“Like now,” he breathed, those eyes tracing over Seoho’s shoulder and arm, seeing colors that Seoho never could as he glanced at his own arms, seeing the devoid of any white clouds, textured like pieces of grass woven together.

Seoho didn’t see the white. He never did. But he felt the pressure in his chest that was constantly squeezing and releasing, like a second heartbeat- just as constant and solid, that upped into a quick time every time he glanced at Geonhak.

He stared at Geonhak, now. And he felt no urge to run. No urge to hide.

Seoho held very still, like movement might frighten him off. His heart was pounding, but it was slow. That second heartbeat beating alongside it familiarly. Like a well-oiled rowboat plowing through water.

Even here, in the most unfamiliar territory… things weren’t different. Just like Seoho had promised. That white hadn’t faded, it hadn’t disappeared.

Seoho could feel it, the same way he always did. Trust. Safety.

Even here, where neither of them were on solid ground.

“And I think that…seeing that… That white?” Geonhak’s expression pinched briefly, a flit of pain. “That was the first thing that started to change the way I saw you.”

Seoho swallowed, feeling like he was slowly floating off. Geonhak, though, despite his uncertainty, seemed more grounded than the days past.

“The way I felt,” Geonhak murmured, like he couldn’t tear his eyes away. “The way I viewed everything I did and everything you did in response. Knowing that that white was there… It changed everything, Seoho. Because I watched it grow there.”

_I watched it grow._

Even Seoho hadn’t seen it grow. He’d watched it transform, he’d watched it shift, but he’d never been able to tell the difference day to day. He knew, at one point, he started turning his back to Geonhak and knew that it would be protected.

Geonhak had watched that white show its head for the first time… and then he’d watched every moment after that, seeing it grow and twist around other emotions…

“I watched, in real time, as my actions creating something that wasn’t there before,” Geonhak practically whispered, expression pinched. “There are a lot of emotions I never saw in you, Seoho. A lot of emotions… that broke my fucking heart to know that you’d never experienced… and even more that you never should have _had_ to experience.”

Seoho bit the inside of his cheek, forcing his breathing to remain even as Geonhak stared at him, glancing over like there was physical wound he couldn’t find.

“I watched basic human decency create emotions you thought you’d never feel,” he hissed, expression twisting ever so slightly like it did when something had particularly outraged him. “Things that you should have had from the very beginning- I watched the _bare minimum_ of humanity completely transform you.”

His eyes darkened, a familiar anger on behalf of Seoho.

Seoho almost fought the statement… but he couldn’t. He knew the him from before Geonhak, and the version of himself he became with Geonhak’s dumb jokes and fearless teasing and stupid pranks that no one else dared pull on him for fear of demonic retaliation…

And Seoho had shed tears over those “bare minimums.”

“I’ve been thinking on my own… a lot,” Geonhak said quietly, swallowing thickly. “Recently. About the fact that I’ve been confused from the beginning about the fact that… I never saw a difference…after my feelings changed.”

Geonhak shrugged, like he was as helplessly confused as Seoho was.

Seoho doubted that, considering the small tornado happening in the back corner of his brain.

“I saw that red appear on you… but it wasn’t when we were doing anything but talking,” he confessed, shaking his head like he was staring at a wall of strings that didn’t connect. “When I saw it on myself for the first time, we weren’t doing anything different than normal. Every other time it showed up, we weren’t _doing anything._ ”

The frustration in his tone made Seoho’s jaws clench, but he said nothing.

“And after it basically never went away… I kept waiting for some big change in how I felt about you… but it never came.” He stared at Seoho like he might have the answer. But then the tension drained from his face, leaving him looking tired. “Because nothing had changed.”

Nothing had changed.

Seoho almost argued that everything had changed.

But then he remembered the fact that he, an hour earlier, had come to the same conclusion in different words.

_Nothing had changed._

_How different were love and trust, at their cores?_

Seoho chewed the inside of his lip as he and Geonhak stared at each other in silence for several moments, just breathing.

“I want…”

Geonhak stopped, shaking his head slowly, staring at his shoes with tense hands.

“I have always wanted,” he said firmly, not lifting his eyes, “to give you that bare minimum.”

Seoho couldn’t help but snort, even as his chest twisted, Geonhak’s own lips quirking wryly.

“At first, it was the same reason anyone would: because it’s absolutely shit that you hadn’t been given that before.” Another flash of injustice in his eyes. “And then… as I watched that white color grow… because I wanted to give you more than the minimum.”

His eyes flickered away but then they were right back against Seoho’s, glassy and misty and sharp.

“I wanted you to stop being satisfied with the bare minimum and realize that you deserved and had a _right_ to even more than that. That there were people who were going to give you that. Who _wanted_ to give you that.” 

Seoho read the words in Geonhak’s eyes before he ever said them. They were familiar words.

_I wanted to give you that._

“ _I_ wanted to give you that,” Geonhak murmured, a fist curling loosely. His eyes shimmered, like a mirage flickering between reality and some sort of fantasy. “And… I had never seen or heard of any kind of love being described like that… but I guess it can be.”

“Geonhak…” Seoho didn’t know what he might have said, but that was the only thing sitting on his tongue at the moment.

Geonhak had always tried to give Seoho more. Even in the ways Seoho thought were stupid. Things that Seoho hadn’t cared about because he was so used to them. And that apathy had disgusted Geonhak… because that wasn’t what people were supposed to see.

“It was always there… that red color,” he murmured, lifting a hand and staring at his wrist, probably staring at that very crimson. His eyes held emotions Seoho couldn’t name, never having seen them so unguarded before, revealed outside of his secret he’d carried. “But I had never seen it on you after that one moment… so I didn’t say anything.”

Seoho could have made any number of insulting remarks. About how he could have asked, about how _stupid_ that was to hide it all when he’d known that Seoho was at least _capable_ of feeling that, which even _Seoho_ hadn’t been aware of until about an hour ago-

“It felt… wrong.” Geonhak shook his shoulders, like a brief shudder. “To know all these things about both of us… but not to say anything. But I couldn’t bring myself to say anything because I didn’t know… what it would cost me.”

_There’s… a lot of reasons to be scared. To put something off. And when you look back… it seems so stupid of you to have hesitated._

Seoho’s jaw tensed.

Geonhak had hidden a vulnerable truth after having no other proof than a brief flicker of affection, continuing his self-preservation out of fear that revealing it after so long would only put the thing he’d treasured for so long at further risk.

Seoho had sat around for a year because he couldn’t cope with the thought of closure-

Seoho was completely unprepared for the sharp flick to his forehead, sharp enough to make him yelp, doubling over to clutch at the sharp sting-

“What the _fuck_ -“

“Do not start feeling fucking _guilty_ while I’m talking about this shit,” Geonhak snapped, lowering his hand with a glare. “I don’t give a shit what you’re feeling guilty about- _Stop it._ ”

Oh, Seoho could list all the reasons he should and did feel guilty. All the ways he had let Geonhak down without even realizing it, all the ways he’d ignored things he should have noticed, all the reasons he didn’t have, save for cowardice-

But those didn’t matter to Geonhak.

They never did.

But that was an argument for another day as he stared at Geonhak glaring at him, but with the faintest sheen of vulnerability hiding behind the glass of his eyes.

Seoho’s chest no longer felt tight.

It felt like a gaping wound, open and hollow. Like a breath being released after holding it long after it had become painful.

But there was no moment of panting, of heaving back that precious breath you’d lost. There was no desperate urge to close it up, to suture, to protect the part of him that was suddenly way too exposed, way too painful.

It was just Geonhak here.

Seoho didn’t see much point in protecting it.

He stared at Geonhak and wondered what colors he would see, if he could look through his eyes. Seoho’s eyes flickered to his own arms, wondering if the white was still there, because it should be.

That white color should have melded with all the other colors until every emotion floating through Seoho’s chest was a shade lighter by the added constancy.

“I’ve never known… love that way.”

Geonhak’s slightly apprehensive face loosened with a brief flicker of confusion that then solidified into understanding.

Seoho… felt slightly out of body. Like he wasn’t quite speaking, wasn’t quite seeing Geonhak, wasn’t quite standing still. Everything felt disconnected but infinitely louder than it had been.

“I didn’t see it in my parents, and I couldn’t even have a chance to see it in others the way you could,” he said, mouth moving faster, like there was something he was trying to beat. Or outrun. “I… in all my life, I don’t think I could name two people who ever actually… loved each other. Like that.”

Elementary school crushes, high school flings… Seoho had witnessed those from his dark corner… but how could he possibly believe the couple making out against a locker were actually capable of love when the looks they gave him-

He certainly hadn’t seen it in the agencies.

Or maybe, through all those years, he just wasn’t looking for it. Or maybe he saw it, and the same cynicism that killed his relationship with his mother had killed any amount of romanticism he might have been able to possess.

Either way… Regardless, he hadn’t seen it. Ever. In any form.

Seoho swallowed, shaking his head slowly. “I… I don’t even know if I’m capable of feeling love like that.”

Geonhak’s anticipating expression stiffened slightly, a softened, resigned acceptance in his eyes as he inclined his head ever so slightly, as if accepting that answer.

That wasn’t the answer, though, and Seoho shook his head more sharply.

“I don’t have a model for that,” he went on before Geonhak could try and throw out some morally-superior, gentle-voiced, self-sacrificing bullshit. “I honestly don’t know if I have ever or could ever… love someone in that way. In the way that other people do. It… just doesn’t really match up with everything going on in here.”

He made a vague, circular gesture around his chest. Geonhak merely nodded again, though seeming slightly more confused.

Seoho was breathing slightly faster, but there was no panic in his blood.

It was like a rush of adrenaline in the middle of a presentation, a final push to remind you that this part was _important_. It was important because his answer hadn’t changed in the last few minutes.

“I don’t have those models,” he murmured, slightly breathless. “All I have is my own experience. And the way that those experiences were shaped by people.”

Geonhak didn’t nod this time, watching like he was afraid of missing something.

“You said it. You saw it,” Seoho said, gesturing helplessly. “That white didn’t exist before you. I’ve told you, not even my mother had that.” He swallowed. “Things changed when you realized that trust was growing. But I want you to imagine being the person who finally felt something like that, that was so foreign, I didn’t even know what it _was_ when I felt it, Geonhak.”

Seoho hadn’t even been fully aware of it, as Geonhak had.

But that almost made it more stark, more sharp, more shattering.

“I don’t know how to love people, Geonhak. I was never taught that.” He shook his head, feeling sightly winded. He ignored the pinch around Geonhak’s eyes. “I didn’t know how to trust people, either. But… you taught me that.”

Even as he spoke, the realization finally clicked into place for Seoho.

“I sat in here, before you just walked in, and I asked myself if I could love you like you loved me…” His lungs felt full. “And I don’t think I can.”

Seoho made a slicing motion with his hand before Geonhak’s expression could twitch, much less drop in some sort of devastation before Seoho could go on.

“I don’t think I can love you like that. Because I was never taught that,” he said firmly, watching Geonhak’s eyes flicker and shimmer with passing emotions. “I don’t have that. What I have is trust. And that’s all I’ve ever had, Geonhak.”

How different were trust and love, really? Not that different.

But different enough in color that you might overlook them as related.

“You didn’t see that red… because that’s not what I feel, Geonhak. Not really, even though you saw that little piece.”

Seoho didn’t know what brought about that red. And maybe, if he tried, it might reappear one day, but Seoho wasn’t going to sit here and cultivate something he didn’t need.

“I don’t need that red,” he said, shaking his head slowly. “I trust you, Geonhak,” he pressed, the words making his throat oddly thick. “And I feel a million other emotions that I never got a chance to feel before you got here, and to this day you are the first and sometimes only person who gets those-“

How different were they, really? Not that different. Different paths, same ending.

“I trust you… and for me, that’s enough.” He swallowed, watching the way Geonhak’s eyes traced over his face, like looking for an emotion he kept seeing. “I don’t know if it is for you… but if it is, then we’ve been on the same page for a lot longer than we thought.”

Maybe not the exact same page. But the same book. Same chapter.

Geonhak stared, a little blank, a little winded.

“Is… Where does that put us?” Geonhak questioned, vague gestures with his hands. “In terms of… what you said you needed time to think about?”

Seoho wasn’t even entirely sure what he’d needed to think about.

“It means… that if you ever think of leaving again,” Seoho said around the lump in his throat. “I’m going to track you down and beat your ass so thoroughly, you won’t be able to walk far enough to do it again.”

Geonhak laughed. A bursted, sudden thing torn out of his throat that he tried to stamp down on, but it escaped nonetheless even as he rolled his eyes, lips pulling up ridiculously.

“It means I’m in,” Seoho said, a little easier. “With whatever you want, wherever _this_ takes us-“ he gestured between the two of them. “I’m on board.” He shrugged, though it suddenly felt like a weight was gone from his chest. “It honestly can’t be much worse than jumping into the Hellscape.”

Geonhak snorted, shaking his head. “That’s rather optimistic of you,” he muttered coyly.

Seoho, however, shrugged. “If this goes the way I think it will… I don’t think we’ll see a big difference. I don’t think this changes much.”

Which was a weird thought in and of itself. But a comforting one, nonetheless.

“God, I hope so,” Geonhak huffed, laughing with an edge of hysterical relief that Seoho echoed.

But after that echo faded, they were left standing in the middle of a practice room with sudden silence stretching between them. Seoho felt no urge to break it, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Geonhak was seeing between them.

What colors were swirling?

Geonhak, however, broke into an easy, familiar grin. “Hungry?” he questioned, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Seoho couldn’t help but snort, a laugh working its way out behind it as he shook his head at the stupidly innocent look on his face.

Nothing changed, indeed.

“Starving, actually,” Seoho said, his own lips curling up unconsciously. “Your crisis made me go into my own crisis which I couldn’t solve without running four miles, apparently.”

Geonhak rolled his eyes, turning away and already walking off as Seoho’s feet carried him behind him automatically. “You finished your crisis in the time it took to run four miles?” he demanded. “You didn’t even have to run and almost destroy everything you’d been building for half a decade?”

Seoho’s heart tugged, but not painfully. “No. I was never one for dramatics.”

Geonhak shoulder checked him into a wall.

When Seoho whipped back around, he was already halfway down the hall, checking over his shoulder as Seoho’s chest ballooned out.

He sprinted after him, neither of them stopping until they reached the cafeteria and Geonhak had to stop to put his code in, giving Seoho the opportunity to snag him by the collar of his jacket.

He didn’t bother wondering what colors appeared.

Nothing changed, indeed.

~~~~~~~~~

Youngjo hugged them both a little too tight.

Keonhee won ten bucks from somewhere.

Dongju rolled his eyes, and Hwanwoong made the most obnoxious cooing sound with his hands clasped together in awe.

Youngjo asked what they wanted for dinner.

Nothing changed, indeed.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho watched flames burst from Geonhak’s palm during practice, his eyes trained on Geonhak’s expression that flinched ever so slightly, though the tensed hesitation remained tucked behind his eyes, overridden by the desire to go back to normal. 

Geonhak and he stayed up late when neither of them felt like sleeping yet and Seoho filled the silence with descriptions of how it felt like he was being leached out of his own body in the Hellscape.

Geonhak stared at him, eyes dark with concern and confliction. “Well,” he said quietly, “at least, you’ll never have to go back there.”

That was Seoho’s only real comfort for it, and that was enough, really.

He was out of there.

They were never going back.

Time moved on.

Seoho stopped being surprised by the nightmares that woke Geonhak up, simply sitting up blindly and dragging himself over to Geonhak’s bed now that that distance had been crossed once. Geonhak usually just moved over, never wanting to talk much, and simply laying down as close or far away as he needed.

On the rarer occasion, Seoho would wake up to his bed dipping, automatically scooting over as Geonhak moved in, mostly on top of Seoho, and both fell back asleep.

Because all it took sometimes, was knowing you weren’t alone. You weren’t back in a cell. You were safe here.

Seoho watched the people sneer and gape in the halls as he and Geonhak walked back through it together, flanked by the others. And Seoho smiled back at them.

Nothing changed, indeed.

They were still on break from missions, though the rest of their schedules had remained largely unchanged with training and free time. Seoho walked through days in a familiar daze, comfortable and… and okay.

They were okay. Things were okay.

They were down by the stream one afternoon, legs dangling over the ledge and quiet conversation passing back and forth.

Seoho stared at the clouds rolling passed, a soft breeze ruffling through, and broke the silence.

“So… are you interested in kissing?” he questioned, glancing over.

Geonhak blinked in exaggerated taken abackedness. “Wow. You been holding onto that one for a while?”

Seoho shouldered him, rolling his eyes. “I’m being _communicative_ and asking,” he said petulantly. “It’s just been a few weeks and we’ve never brought it up. Like, in any way, talking about where certain things go from here.”

Seoho had expected this question to bring about another crisis, but Geonhak just hummed, nodding like it was a fair question.

“I’m down for it,” he answered rather casually, shrugging gently. He glanced at Seoho. “Do you want to kiss?”

“Like right now? Or in general?” he questioned, also surprised by the calmness to his voice.

Things got easy alarmingly quickly. Like seeing This Whole Thing between them as how it has always been.

Because it has always been this.

Geonhak shrugged, and Seoho huffed. “Right now? Not really. In general? Yeah, I’m down for it.”

And that was the truth. Simple as that.

Geonhak made a noncommittal hum, like that was that. “Well, let me know when you’re ready, and we’ll go from there.”

Seoho stared at him, still marveling over the fact that it was that easy.

“Okay,” he murmured, staring back out over the warm afternoon.

Geonhak chuckled. “You’re a dumbass.”

Seoho nearly shoved him off the cliff.

Nothing changed.

~~~~~~~~~

“You happy?”

Seoho glanced up from his bowl of ice cream that he was eating on the counter, seeing Youngjo paused by the kitchen door, leaning against the doorframe with a curious, knowing smile.

Seoho lowered his spoon, surprised by how quickly he nodded, heart full. “Yeah,” he murmured, a little thick and hoarse.

Youngjo merely smiled, pushing off the doorframe. “Good,” he said firmly.

And then he walked off.

Yeah. He was.

~~~~~~~~~

They were by the stream again, but it was early morning, the sky still grey with the growing light, a chill in the morning air.

Their early morning was mostly due to Geonhak waking up early and feeling just antsy enough that going back to sleep wasn’t an option, and Seoho was a good person, so he was here too.

They hadn’t spoken more than a handful of words all morning. It was the quietest morning they’d had in several weeks, leading into months that somehow flew by and crawled past simultaneously.

Seoho watched the icy water rush by, hanging his fingers over and watching droplets of blue energy drip from his hands into the water. Geonhak chuckled, and when he dangled his own hand over, he barely even braced himself before letting dripping flame fall into the water below, listening to it sizzle as it hit.

Geonhak’s lips quirked up in quiet, peaceful amusement.

Seoho stared at him for a moment, backlit by the grey sky and rolling clouds and morning chill. Familiar face and expression and air between them… Nothing heavy or chilling, at the moment. It was a rare moment of peace from life and the insides of their heads.

Looking across the stream with Geonhak beside him… it felt right.

Like this was how it was supposed to be. And Seoho knew that it was.

“Huh,” Seoho breathed rather curiously, his lungs open and light.

“Hm?” Geonhak hummed without looking, eyes lost in the distance.

“If you asked to kiss me right now… I probably wouldn’t say no.”

It was stated as a realization. An occurrence. The earth didn’t threaten to shatter.

Nothing changed.

Geonhak chuckled lightly, equally as unfazed as he focused on Seoho with a quirk of his lips and a light in his eyes. “Really?” he questioned coyly. “’Probably?’”

“Well, I don’t _know_ , dumbass,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “I’ve never done that before, I don’t know what it feels like. But I’ll know when you ask, and I don’t think I’ll say no.”

Geonhak laughed harder, drawing a leg up and half turning towards Seoho. “Okay,” he allowed, voice light. “So what are you waiting for?”

Seoho gave him an unimpressed look. “For you to ask me, dumbass.”

The air was clear.

Geonhak grinned. “Why do I have to be the one to ask you?” he challenged, shifting to face Seoho further. “Why can’t you ask me?”

Seoho’s heart was light.

“Because you’re the one who started all of this!”

“But you just admitted to being unsure,” Geonhak pointed out, indignant. “Which means if I ask, that might be pressuring you into-“

Seoho grabbed him by the collar, yanking him forward (which only made him laugh harder). He stopped before they got too close, though he could feel Geonhak’s nose brushing his own, their eyes close enough that he could see flecks of gold in the darkness that stared back at him, bright but soft.

“Last chance,” Seoho murmured, wondering where the hell his pulse had gone because it should have been pounding by now as Geonhak grinned, looking delighted.

Seoho’s stomach flipped.

“Idiot,” Geonhak whispered with such fondness, it almost made Seoho indignant, but all arguments were lost when he finally crossed that minuscule distance.

Kissing Geonhak… was shockingly underwhelming.

Not that it was lackluster or disappointing in any way… it just didn’t wash over Seoho like a tidal wave. It wasn’t overwhelming and all-encompassing, it wasn’t too much, it wasn’t a shockingly, horrifically vast like an ocean he was drowning in.

It felt like sitting by the stream.

Like it didn’t matter if Geonhak was actually there. He would always be here. He was meant to be here, in this place that was created for just the two of them.

Like there was nothing new happening. As if this was something he’d experienced a million times before. It wasn’t mind blowing or devastating.

It felt like the first time he’d walked into their quarters while Geonhak was sitting on his bed and realized that this was home.

Like the moment he realized Geonhak was staying.

He hadn’t moved, but Geonhak’s hand was a warm weight against his neck, holding him closer, grip tightening ever so slightly like he was afraid of losing his hold. Seoho inhaled sharply as he followed the barely-there prompting, a hand landing on Geonhak’s arm for balance.

There was a small noise Seoho had never heard from his own mouth before. Geonhak grinned into the kiss.

Ah. There was his pulse suddenly pounding its way through his veins so fucking loudly, he was sure Geonhak could feel it through his neck-

Seoho didn’t even care, focusing on the burning warmth at his neck and the gentle pressure against his lips that was that same brand of familiar, even as one of the most foreign experiences Seoho had ever had.

Kissing Geonhak felt like the last five years of living with him.

It felt good.

It felt right.

Even with his eyes closed, even as all of his senses seemed to shut down one by one, it was still so obvious that it was _Geonhak_. Everything from the shape of him to the sound of his breathing to the familiar hand holding onto Seoho like he always did…

It made his throat close up, that thought.

This was Geonhak.

He was back. He was here. And both of them felt something different but so compatible, just like that stupid kid who walked up to the outcast’s table and somehow made a friend and more out of him.

Things that looked different but fit together. Things that looked different but were really just mirror images.

Things that should have never fit together but somehow… insanely… fit together perfectly.

Right where they belonged.

When Geonhak’s hand slid from Seoho’s neck to his cheek, holding it gently but firmly enough for Seoho to lean into without realizing it, another weight leaving his chest-

His own hand grabbed onto Geonhak’s jacket flap, holding on like there was something to lose, pulling him ever so closer without any sort of idea of what he wanted, he just-

It was the feeling of not being alone. Of someone being close.

It felt indescribable.

Seoho wasn’t sure what Geonhak would see if he opened his eyes, but Seoho was sure that it would look like some gaudy fireworks display of colors that didn’t make sense-

It was good.

Seoho had never expected it to be good.

He was the first to pull away, but his hand on Geonhak’s jacket was enough to convince the other to stay close enough for their foreheads to rest together, Seoho’s breathing a little uneven.

When he blinked, his eyes were damp.

Geonhak laughed, a quiet, almost pitying chuckle as the palm against his face shifted, fingers wiping at the corner of his eye gently. “What?” he whispered, like there was someone else to hear.

Seoho suddenly felt the urge to smack him, to kiss him, to shake him- A welling of emotions that tried to burst out, and Seoho didn’t know what to do with them.

“You’re lucky you mean so much to me, or I would kick your ass,” Seoho breathed, out of breath, which only made Geonhak grin as they both moved at once again.

Geonhak tugged him closer, and Seoho made to rise up onto his knee, to get a higher leverage to get more-

His foot, on whatever patch of dirt it tried to catch on, slipped on the loose dirt.

Seoho jerked back- their awkward position of sitting on the edge of the small cliff suddenly thrown off balance as Seoho’s leg slid down the ledge, taking most of him with it.

Seoho yelped.

Geonhak gasped, their lips parting as both of them instinctively tightening their grip on each other as they both rolled down the small gorge that was barely three feet deep.

That surprise turned to yelling shock when they hit the water.

This early in the morning, it was still chilly- not dangerously so, but enough for Seoho to let out a massive “Fuck!” when the cold and water hit, knocking the breath out of him, followed by Geonhak’s eloquent “Holy shit!”

Both of them scrambled to stand up, more than half of them completely soaked and dripping water as Seoho lifted his eyes wildly, staring at Geonhak who was pulling his sopping jacket tighter around himself.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

And then it was just laughter.

Seoho almost slipped on the rubbery stones twice, doubled over and shivering as a pleasant breeze froze its way through- his lungs hurt and his head was spinning a little.

Only about half of any of this was because of the cold.

The rest was from an emotional high he had never experienced before. Something thrilling and terrifying, like staring down the highest drop of a rollercoaster. Geonhak, the kiss, the stream, the meaning behind it all-

Nothing changed.

No, _really,_ nothing changed. The red on Geonhak, the white on Seoho, the air between them, the things they had gone through, the things they had done for each other… It was still there, untouched.

Everything it all meant… was still there. And even if _everything_ had changed… nothing changed.

And for someone like Seoho, who had lived without any sort of stability outside of which people spit on him, who held his first trust tightly in his hands, who couldn’t bear the thought of losing something else in his life…

For someone like Geonhak, who had grown up on the outside looking in, who was punished for things outside of his control, who had put so much time and effort into ensuring Seoho realized all the things he’d been denied in his life…

For someone like them, who had nothing but what they had here…

That was priceless. More important than color or timing or fearful futures.

They were still laughing when Geonhak finally grabbed Seoho’s arm, dragging him out of the stream so their shoes would stop retaining water, pausing on the stream’s bank to catch their breath and get a hold back on reality.

Geonhak kissed him again while Seoho was still laughing, almost causing him to choke.

Like nothing had changed, Seoho smacked his side for it.

Like nothing had changed, that only served to make Geonhak grin like he’d won something.

In the weirdest blend of past and present, Seoho felt like he was suddenly staring at the past six years and seeing every place it might have changed completely, if one of them had done even one thing different.

He shut his eyes against reality.

But even if they’d done it differently… nothing changed.

~~~~~~~~~~

They went back on missions.

Geonhak stopped flinching when using his powers, even if Seoho could still see the lingering tension in his shoulders every time he threw a fire ball. They both exchanged small smiles, though. Small victories.

Their team was always accompanied by two others, in case some sort of backlash happened from the Hellscape, but dark elves had been ordinarily quiet since their escape.

“I guess it’s not worth coming after something they only really took as a joke, right?” Geonhak said as they stared into a hoard of vampires and death stallions.

Sometimes, Geonhak would take his jacket off at the end of a particularly grueling mission and hand it to Seoho (or place it on his shoulders). Seoho stared at it with a cocked brow, looking at Geonhak expectantly like ‘what do you expect me to do with this?’

“Your shirt’s torn,” was the first excuse, Geonhak pointing at tear in Seoho’s shirt that stretched from shoulder blade to hip. 

Seoho snorted, but threw it on. “Worried about my virtue?”

“No, you’re cold blooded,” the other replied crisply, walking passed Seoho with an impish grin. “Don’t want to listen to you bitching the whole way back.”

Seoho wadded up the jacket and threw it at the back of his head, listening to the satisfying _whump_ it made.

He pulled that a few more times. And when the weather finally changed from chilly to icy, Seoho would find the heavy leather dropped onto his shoulders without warning, already warm and smelling vaguely of smoke from the fight.

“Why?” Seoho questioned, tugging at the leather jacket, staring at Geonhak just standing in a long sleeved black shirt. It was really warm, though, and he gripped the lapels to hold it closed for the moment.

“You’re shivering,” Geonhak said simply, already walking towards the return helicopter.

“That’s just a side effect of my powers,” Seoho said, rolling his eyes and preparing to take the jacket off. “My skin just takes longer to heat back up when its cold, you know that-“

Geonhak turned around, tugging the jacket back onto shoulder efficiently, taking a step back. He lifted both hands, opening his palms and summoning two small orbs of golden fire to his palms.

“See? I’m warm. I don’t need it.”

Seoho was about to take it off anyway, just… because. But… it was getting colder. And Seoho never really wore jackets during missions because his blood got so heated, it was just uncomfortable. After missions, though… His blood had cooled off, but his skin still felt icy.

Seoho sighed, pushing his arms through the sleeves of the jacket. “Is this some new boyfriend kick thing?” he questioned as they walked back. “You never did this before.”

Geonhak was quiet for a minute. “I wanted to,” he said after a moment. “I didn’t think you’d let me. Or I thought you’d find it weird.”

“I probably would have found it weird,” Seoho agreed. “But… I might have let you. I don’t know.”

Seoho and Geonhak had a weird balance of both being self-sufficient and being reliant on each other.

Seoho might rely on Geonhak to watch his back and for emotional stability- you know, survival things- but things as simple as a jacket when it was cold? That was a little weird because why would you do that? I’m not dying, you don’t need to do that.

It was… a meaningless gesture, in the grand scheme of things. It wasn’t something they _needed._

Seoho still wrapped the jacket a little tighter, surprised by how well it blocked out the wind. He didn’t mention the way his heart clenched.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seoho tossed Geonhak an apple.

Geonhak stared at it for several moments. “I’m not cutting it for you,” he said flatly, tossing it back to Seoho.

Seoho caught it, glaring as he hummed it back at Geonhak, forcing him to leap up from the couch to catch it without getting brained. “It’s for you, dumbass,” he muttered, rolling his eyes and already walking out of the living room.

It was a stupidly simple gesture and Seoho almost felt embarrassed for it. But he did it anyway. Because he could.

When he turned the corner, he saw the exact moment Geonhak’s expression turned from confusion to something warmer and brighter.

He did not acknowledge the thudding rhythm his heart took up over something so small.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You two are fucking adorable.”

Seoho glanced up at Hwanwoong who was making a camera with his hands, grinning.

He glanced over what they were doing, looking for something to prompt that statement. He and Geonhak were both on their phones, sitting on the couch. “What?” he questioned, frowning.

“You’re practically in his lap,” Hwanwoong said flatly, dropping the make-believe camera.

No. Geonhak was sitting against the armrest and Seoho was sitting beside him. Their legs, sides, and shoulders were touching, but Seoho was nowhere near his lap.

And maybe that specific distinction was a sign that… maybe Hwanwoong had a point.

“Tell me,” Hwanwoong questioned, sitting on his hip expectantly. “Do either of you ever sleep in your own beds anymore?”

“Yes,” Seoho said petulantly, eyes narrowed.

Sometimes Seoho slept in his own bed, and sometimes Geonhak slept in his own. If Hwanwoong wanted the dirt, he should have asked if they were sleeping in those beds _alone._

One of them was always in their own bed, they just always had company.

At first, it was because Geonhak was tired of waking up to nightmares so violently and Seoho was tired of the time it took to become aware, get up, move over, etc. So… they just cut out the middleman to become more efficient.

When they went to bed, one of them just made their bed in one of the available spaces. Sometimes Seoho got in bed first, so Geonhak crawled in with him. Sometimes they stood there, glancing between beds to decide which they would sleep in.

Sometimes, it was a mad dash for which bed and which side would be more comfortable, grabbing each other and tossing bodies over and out of places they had already called dibs on.

Hwanwoong was asking the wrong questions if he wanted dirt.

Hwanwoong left, unsatisfied, and Seoho went back to his phone silently.

Geonhak snorted quietly. “If he really wanted the dirt, he should have asked if we were sleeping alone,” he chuckled.

“ _Right_?” Seoho demanded, rolling his eyes, grinning.

Nothing… changed. But things were different. Slowly, they were _different._

Seoho didn’t know what that little ball of warmth in his chest was, but it felt similar to the way his blood warmed with his powers. Like a tiny ball of flames flickering- smaller and larger at random moments.

He didn’t mention that warmth. He just held onto it.

It was different. He’d never felt that before.

~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, that’s a lot of white.”

Seoho glanced over, confused for a moment as he broke his concentration that was building up for the obstacle course. Geonhak was grinning at him, though his eyes were focused interestedly on a space on Seoho’s arm.

“What?” he demanded, looking down at his bare arm, confused why Geonhak was bringing this up twenty seconds before their start time as Youngjo and Dongju finished up the last section of the obstacle course.

Hwanwoong and Keonhee were yelling encouragements from the ground.

And Geonhak was commenting on the white right now.

“It’s just a lot of white,” Geonhak said casually, getting in position to take off, looking at ease. “Trust me not to drop you?” he questioned coyly.

“We’re fifty feet up,” Seoho muttered, rolling his eyes. “You _better_ not fucking drop me.” 

Geonhak laughed at the exact moment the horn sounded for the completion of one round and the beginning of another, the giant clock on the wall restarting to zero and immediately beginning to count for their turn.

Seoho took off running, listening to Geonhak three steps behind him.

The obstacle course was… one of Seoho’s least favorite moments of training. It was suspended in the air, parts of it attached to the wall around the practice room, and it was an absolute bitch to fall off of.

Which he had. Several times, with Geonhak coming down with him after attempts to save him. It wouldn’t kill you, but you would fucking feel it for a few days. No safety nets. Just a record to beat.

The first part was simply a path that rose and fell, outrageously steep and then plummeting. And even if Geonhak and he had done these a million times before, there was always _something_ new that threw you off.

Seoho’s boots slammed against the metal path until they reached the first obnoxiously steep incline, just shy of straight up with a metal grate that you could stick your hands and feet into.

Geonhak and he never had time for that.

Seoho was already dropping into a crouch, a shield suspended above his hands. Geonhak had leapt up before the shield even formed, but he landed directly in the middle as Seoho shoved upwards, launching him high enough to reach the top.

Before he got that high, Seoho was already wrapping the blue energy around his forearm and hand, reaching up and jumping. A whip of white flame wrapped around the energy and Seoho tensed his arm to keep it from being jarred as Geonhak’s momentum pulled him up.

Geonhak landed at the top, planting his feet and pulling Seoho the last few feet as he grappled up the metal grate.

They leapt down the downwards path, tucking and rolling as they reached a monkey bars looking area that randomly retracted if you weren’t fast enough.

As they flew across, Seoho felt his chest expand, watching Geonhak overtake him in this area because his upper body strength had always been better.

A lot of white, huh?

If there was one place Seoho felt most alive, like that white was part of his bloodstream, it was any high stakes situation. The places where Seoho knew that even if he fell… Geonhak would be falling right beside him.

Hm. Symbolisms.

They didn’t have to look at each other, Geonhak crouching and creating a foothold for Seoho, lifting him high enough to grab the rope and start climbing higher, and by the additional wiggles, he knew Geonhak had made it on as well.

They climbed from rope to a brick wall, like a makeshift building ledge they were supposed to be racing across.

A wall appeared a foot in front of Seoho as he was sprinting, a blast of hellfire burning a hole through it that they leapt through. He didn’t even bother caring about the clock counting on the wall.

He grinned as they avoided the crumbling projectiles falling from above.

When Geonhak decided to be cheeky, wrapping a whip on some part of equipment and swinging over Seoho’s head so that he could run in front, grinning back over his shoulder as Seoho rolled his eyes-

The floor they were running on suddenly crumbled and Seoho was in freefall, fingertips managing to grab a piece of torn up brick, but it crumbled under his hand, and Seoho kept falling, already bracing himself for the impact, even if Geonhak was right after him-

A gloved hand wrapped around Seoho’s forearm, and he braced himself, jarring to a stop as he opened his eyes, staring up at Geonhak grinning down at him, eyes bright with life and adrenaline.

A whip of green flame was wrapped around a piece of piping higher up, Geonhak’s feet braced against the wall, like he was grappling down, one hand wrapped tightly around Seoho.

Seoho stared up at him, shocked at how quickly he had managed that, but that settled into a returning grin, a burst of laughter in his chest like the first time they had pulled off this kind of maneuver.

That sort of bubble of disbelief that came with just having done the fucking impossible.

And… hell, maybe Geonhak had something to do with it, the gross smile splitting Seoho’s face in half.

Fuck it.

Maybe it didn’t really have much to do with accomplishing the impossible. Maybe it was the fact that Geonhak just kept proving again and again that he would be there.

Fuck it, maybe Seoho just really fucking liked it when he was there.

Geonhak’s eyes suddenly widened, tracing over a space between Seoho’s chest and shoulder.

The clock, the practice room, and the obstacle course disappeared as Seoho stared up at him.

He frowned, glancing down and seeing nothing. “What?” he questioned dumbly as Geonhak’s lips curled up ever so slightly, though his eyes were full of a light that made Seoho’s heart clenched and stomach flip.

His eyes suddenly felt misty and he wasn’t sure why.

Geonhak’s smile turned the most delicate shade of disbelief and elation.

“I see red,” he whispered, voice thick.

Seoho almost looked down, but didn’t. Just kept his eyes on Geonhak. 

Huh.

So maybe love _can_ be taught.

If you had a patient enough teacher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!!!   
> I’ve had such an amazing time with this fic, and thank you all for all the love you’ve given it and the patience with longer breaks between chapters! You’re all so amazing!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did! 
> 
> I’m going to be taking a short break after this work for some personal projects and work related things, though! But feel free to reach out during that time if you’d like, I just won’t be actively updating~ 
> 
> Thank you for coming with me on another fic, lovelies! Stay safe! And I’ll see you in my next work!  
> -SS

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading, lovelies!!  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter- Please let me know what you thought!! 
> 
> My twitter and Curious Cat are @_SinisterSound_ if you have any questions, comments, or just like to chat!! 
> 
> Have an amazing day, lovelies!  
> -SS


End file.
